


The Grace Archer

by ratherbehere



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Action/Adventure, Adventure & Romance, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Animals, Archery, Bottom Dean, Explicit Sexual Content, Fairy Tale Elements, Fairy Tale Style, M/M, Romance, Swordplay, Swords & Sorcery, Top Castiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-06
Updated: 2015-01-06
Packaged: 2018-03-05 15:02:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 31,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3124529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ratherbehere/pseuds/ratherbehere
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As all the great tales begin: once upon a time, in a long forgotten place, there lived an archer. He shot so well and so true that the king took note and rose him in rank, until the mysterious archer was the king's most trusted adviser. The archer served the king well, until the royal line was no more, and further still.</p><p>Tales of The Grace Archer were told for centuries. Fact turned to legend. Legend passed into myth. And that is how the archer preferred it, hidden in the forests and lost to mankind.</p><p>There he would have forever remained, if a young man with dark blonde hair and green eyes had not crashed into his life with a problem only The Grace Archer could solve...</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Grace Archer

**Author's Note:**

> This story is primarily Supernatural fan fiction, but it is also a fantasy genre love-fest and you may be able to spot where I was inspired by other fantasy works, non-fantasy works, and role playing games. No copyright infringement is intended.
> 
> Art by [Tkodami](http://tkodami.livejournal.com/)  
> Art Masterpost: [LJ](http://tkodami.livejournal.com/4312.html) and [AO3](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3127604)

The leaves were dry and crunchy underfoot, the very beginnings of Autumn upon their kingdom. It wouldn’t be long before snow began to fall. It was strange– the last time Dean had been on this journey, it had been mid-Autumn then too.

Dean had been sitting in a tavern when the news first came in. Well, it was gossip, but in his line of work, that was the best way to find quests for him and his party.

The gossip was that a woman had been found dead outside Drizzle Low. Which wouldn’t have been all that impressive or newsworthy, at least not enough to travel across the land and straight to Flurry Frost, if it hadn’t been for the fact that her eyes were missing.

When Dean heard this important tidbit, a chill went down his spine. When the gossip continued and it turned out no less than three people had been found dead with missing eyes, Dean put his beer down, plopped some coins on the table, and went to find his party.

Kevin was by the fire, telling tales. It was what he did best, and it was strange how much power he could find in words. Using language alone, he could charm a horse breeder into selling his horse in exchange for a pair of trousers. Dean had witnessed it.

Charlie was flirting with a woman in the corner of the tavern, something she was as skilled with as Kevin was with words. She had a lot of other useful talents too, many of which she had expanded upon after she’d learned the base skill from Dean.

And as much as Dean hated to ruin what could have been a great evening, they needed to begin preparing for departure at first dawn.

Together, the three of them found Sam exactly where they had expected him. He wasn’t overly interested in partying and thought they went out too much as it was, so Sam was at their home, his nose buried in a book. This one was one of Sam’s favorites, a book of fairytales from around the land. It included the Tales of Red Brunsberry, Three Owls in a Barn, The Grace Archer, The Emerald Pumpkin Snatcher, and more. He put it down when the trio entered.

“I have a quest for us,” Dean started.

“Yeah, we gathered,” Charlie said, plopping down in her favorite chair. “What is it?”

“Someone is killing people along the Red Royal Road, and we have to stop him,” Dean explained. He shifted on his feet. Dean had trained his team well. They would know he was keeping a fuckton to himself.

Sure enough, Kevin was frowning. “Dean, I was having a good night. This hardly sounds like our kind of case.”

Dean shrugged. “Hey, we’ll probably find some grieving mothers or husbands willing to pay for some vengeance,” he said. They looked less dubious, but not sold. “Look, you’ll just have to trust me on this. We need to leave first thing tomorrow.”

Sam carefully closed his book. “Horses?” he asked.

That, there, was the reason Sam was awesome. He loved Dean, but more importantly, he trusted him. He still looked as thoroughly unconvinced as everyone else, but they’d learned over the years that when Dean was onto something, it was best to go with it.

So at first light, they packed up the horses and Dean led them all to the edges of the Great Forest. Then he guided them further still into the lands, heading straight East.

Sam, ever the wise one, was the first to ask why they weren’t taking the road.

“Alright,” he said when they stopped for the night, reaching for his pack off his mare. “Spill, Dean. Where are we heading that we can’t take a road?”

Dean sighed. “I knew you’d ask eventually.”

Charlie and Kevin exchanged a look. “We trust you,” Charlie said. “But if there’s a plan here, don’t you think we should know it?”

Raising his hands in defeat, Dean resigned himself to sharing his past, something he typically preferred to keep private. But they were right, and they would find out soon enough anyway. It had only been a matter of time before he’d have had to share the story, and he might as well do it before they get to Cas, and things go tits up.

“We’re going to find the Grace Archer,” he announced. Blank stares met him in triplicate.

“He’s a myth, Dean,” Sam told him. He used his, ‘my brother is so utterly stupid’ voice.

Dean smacked him upside the head. “Don’t talk to me like that, Bitch.”

“Jerk,” Sam responded emphatically, rubbing his head. “Don’t make me shoot you.”

At first, both Charlie and Kevin, each in their own turn, had questioned Dean adventuring with his little brother. Then they saw him shoot a bow. Sam, Dean not-so-humbly thought, was the best bowman in all of the realm.

Well. Second best. But Sam didn’t know that yet.

“He’s not a myth,” Dean told them gruffly, his eyes shifting to the sky and the stars he could make out in the clearing. “I know him.”

~

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuckity fuck,” Dean cursed under his breath as he tried to not trip over the roots of gnarly trees. He looked over his shoulder, and yep, scary, winged, scaly black demon thing was still chasing him. “God damn it!”

He really did have the worst luck in the world. His broke-as-dirt, drunk dad can’t hold a job for more than a week, he’s forced to steal to get by, so of course he would pick an evil sorcerer to pickpocket.

Running like a bat out of hell into the forest was probably not his wisest idea. However, it hadn’t been his. The damn beasts had forced him that way. Dean shuddered as it occurred to him that it was probably so no one would find his body.

A branch whapped him in the forehead. As blood began to trickle down, he decided he would only pickpocket people he’d thoroughly vetted first.

The ground blurred beneath him. But no matter how fast he ran, the specters were still after him. And since Dean was only human, and his pursuers were not, he was beginning to tire, while they were not. He was doomed.

Dean tripped right over a huge root. He heard his knee pop and felt a jolt in his leg. Dean knew instantly that he was done for. Leaves and moss broke his fall, but it was of small comfort. God he hoped Sammy would be okay without him, could handle Dad on his own, find his own food–

The sound of rushing air was the only precursor to an arrow flying overhead and a thump as it landed square in the chest of a demon bat thing. It screeched loudly, falling to the ground. The other two went down in quick succession.

A man, a strangely topless man, strode out from the trees and went straight for where the first one went down. He collected the arrow.

“What the– Who the–” Dean tried to say. “What the hell is going on?!”

The man turned to look at Dean. Piercing blue eyes met his own and went straight through him it seemed. Without a word, the archer retrieved the final two arrows and began to leave.

“Wait!” Dean called out. “Damn it, I can’t move!”

He stopped and turned back to Dean one more time. He considered Dean carefully, his eyes sweeping over him, from his busted knee, to the pendant hanging at his chest, to his sandy hair, finally landing on his eyes. He stared long and hard into Dean’s eyes, and it was more than a little unsettling. Dean knew they were unusual, almost no one had green eyes and dark blonde hair, so he understood the look or two he’d get for it, but Castiel’s gaze was too piercing.

Dean swallowed before speaking. “Look man, I get that you have this whole mysterious archer thing going on, but if you could at least help me get back to Droplet Falls–”

“I have a salve in my camp that could help with that knee,” Castiel said, cutting him off. Hello, gravel voice. What did he do, scream all day? “And I have an owl awaiting me. I will help you to my camp and then to town tomorrow, if that’s agreeable to you.”

Dean hesitated. He had no reason to trust this strange man (an owl waiting for him?), other than the fact that he’d taken out evil beasts that had been about to kill him. That had to count for something. It wasn’t like he had a lot of options anyway.

“Okay,” Dean agreed.

The man shouldered his bow and came to Dean’s side. Together, they got Dean on his feet, or rather, his good leg, and started to hobble north. Dean’s weight was almost entirely supported by the mysterious stranger, and since he had no tunic on, he could feel the warmth coming through the man’s skin. It was unnaturally warm, but somehow soothing nonetheless.

“My name is Dean,” Dean ventured. The man paused, stopping abruptly and jarring Dean. He looked at Dean and blinked a few times.

“Castiel,” he finally said, rolling it around on his tongue.

“Well Castiel,” Dean said, “Thanks for your help back there. I have no idea what that thing was or what it wanted to do to me–”

“It was going to take your eyes out,” Castiel said. “And then pull your soul out through the sockets.”

It was Dean’s turn to blink a few times. Once he’d decided Castiel was not pulling his leg, he shivered. Hard. Goosebumps broke out on his arms. Damn, eyeless and soulless all because he wanted some change to buy Sam a pastry for his birthday.

“You’re trembling,” Castiel observed.

“Well yeah, what you just said is fucking scary,” Dean explained.

“Indeed,” Castiel said. Dean opened his mouth twice, but he couldn’t think of anything else to say to that. Maybe Castiel hadn’t had a lot of conversations recently.

Droplet Falls, Dean found out, would have been significantly closer than wherever Castiel was taking them. Dean sincerely hoped he wasn’t wrong to trust him. He was not entirely certain he could find his way back out of the forest without help. They had gone so far, there was now mist seeping into the woods, and it was getting thicker.

“Uh,” Dean finally said, “You’re not taking me into a crypt or something, are you?”

Castiel tilted his head. “Why would I do that?”

“It’s just getting a little creepy out here, man,” Dean explained. He bit off the last word. His knee was starting to ache, now that the adrenaline was wearing off.

“Ah, the mist,” Castiel said. “I find it comforting actually. It’s why I stay here.”

“You really don’t like people, do you?” Dean asked.

“That’s not it at all,” Castiel explained. “I simply prefer the quiet of nature.”

“Isn’t helping me out going to disrupt that?” Dean asked.

“You’re injured,” Castiel responded restating the obvious as if Dean had forgotten it. “I may prefer the woods with only Norbert for company, but I am not a, a…”

“Asshole?”

“Yes,” Castiel responded. “I am not an asshole.”

Dean chuckled, though his smile was tainted with the pain. “Good to know.”

The brush ended abruptly and Dean found himself in a small clearing. The mist was less thick here, parting around a small camp that Castiel evidently called home. In the center of the clearing was a small fire pit with a makeshift spit roast above it, some delicately hand carved trunks-turned-benches positioned around the fire. Back from the fire was a small log cabin.

Castiel lowered him gently to one of the bench seats. “There was a time I could have healed this for you easily, but I am cut off from that power,” Castiel said like the words were normal. His fingers were resting so gently on Dean’s knee that it surprisingly didn’t add to the pain at all, and was almost comforting.

“I’ll be fine,” Dean mumbled at him.

Without a word, Castiel darted inside his cabin. He was gone for a moment before coming back out with a ball of material.

“It simply needs to be bound,” Castiel told him. “And rested.”  He knelt in front of Dean and unraveled the ball he had brought with him. It was several small, scrap pieces of animal skin. He tied the ends together, eventually presenting one long segment, averaging three or four inches in width, and several feet long. He took Dean’s leg in one hand, and the wrap in the other, but paused. Abruptly he stood up and went back into the cabin, coming back out with a jar containing a pale yellow ointment.

“I almost forgot the salve,” he said.

He opened the top and rubbed a small amount onto Dean’s swollen flesh before setting the jar aside. Cas massaged the drops in so gently that it almost seemed to ease the soreness, not add to it. Then, carefully, he resumed his task of bandaging the busted knee.

That did hurt a little. His knee was definitely swollen, and Dean doubted that being massaged and bound would make much of a difference. He’d felt the pull. It could be bad, knee damage could be ugly, and Dean knew he could be thoroughly screwed. Possibly lame for life.

But Castiel had spoken very confidently, and as the wrap was pulled into position, some of the pain began to ease.

“You’re a wizard,” Dean said in awe. The relief was more than welcome.

“I’m not–” Castiel began to reply.

“Just a phrase,” Dean stopped him, holding up a hand. “Thanks.”

“You are welcome,” Castiel replied. He shifted uncomfortably on his foot. “I was hunting dinner when I stumbled upon your situation. Do you mind…?”

It took Dean a moment to understand what he was asking. “Go,” he said. “I’ll be fine. I’d tease you for trusting me with your stuff, but considering I can barely stand, I think we’re good.”

Castiel nodded. “Don’t eat the wood,” he said, taking off before Dean could even process how weird that statement was. Who would try to eat wood?

~

“What the heck? Who would try to eat wood?” Charlie asked. She was riding by his side, listening attentively. Kevin was on Dean’s other side, and he was making the face he always made any time someone was telling a story– a slightly constipated, squinty look that meant he was thinking too hard, trying to memorize every detail.

“He would, apparently,” Dean explained with a shrug. “But he wouldn’t elaborate further. Believe me, I asked, but he just mumbled something about nutrition and suspected medicinal properties and bad consequences, and left it at that.”

Castiel was like that. Most of the time he seemed perfectly normal, a fully functioning human being. Then all of a sudden, he’d be eating wood.

Heh. Yes he did.

Dean leered to himself but no one seemed to notice.

Charlie tucked a lip under her nose as she nodded. It was the look that said she still thought it was nuts but didn’t mind it. She was going to need to keep that mentality for Dean to get through his tale.

“Okay then,” she said with a hand wave. “Go on, good sir.”

~

The kill, a large raccoon, was roasting over the fire and the delicious smell permeated the cool night air. Dean and Castiel were sitting on separate logs, but on the ends that put them fairly close. Castiel was shirtless still, and while Dean was huddling closer to the fire to chase the chill away, Castiel seemed quite comfortable as he was.

His owl, Norbert apparently, arrived while dinner was cooking. It was freaking huge and when it landed right above Dean, he nearly pissed himself. Castiel pet its head a few times while the ginormous bird cooed. Then he flapped to a higher branch, settled in, and took to watching them. Dean had the strangest sense that Norbert didn’t quite like him.

He tried to pretend it didn’t have claws bigger than his eyes.

Castiel turned the raccoon a few more times and decided dinner was done, setting about serving it. The meat was delicious, something that surprised Dean. He’d always thought game meat would be tough and tasteless, but this was juicy and flavorful and Dean decided he should really learn the bow so he could go hunt him, Sammy and dad some decent meat. Lord knows they could do with something more than the scraps he swipes from tables in taverns when dad is too drunk to cook. Or too broke to buy food.

Dean was getting ready to ask what the next step was, whether he was welcome to stay the night in the cabin or should grab some dirt, when the peaceful evening was shattered by the sound of branches snapping.

At first he thought maybe it was the owl, flying down or shifting up above, but the way Castiel sprung to his feet told him something else was going on.

Castiel readied his bow while his eyes darted around the forest in a tight arc, pausing at several places. There were definitely several things coming, averaging around head-height off the ground, and given that Castiel drew an arrow and let it fly, Dean could assume they weren’t friendly.

“Dean,” Castiel commanded calmly. “Get behind me. If you have a weapon, draw it. Otherwise, the knife I used on the raccoon is by the tent.”

Dean opened his mouth to protest being treated like Castiel’s lackey, but pulled up short when another black, scaly demon burst into the clearing.

“Shit!” Dean cried. He tried to stand but his knee painfully reminded him why that was a bad idea and he fell to the ground with a cry. He scrambled across the campsite, half pulling, half using his good leg for movement, to make his way to the weapon. He heard a few more arrows fly before he reached the knife, sitting on a makeshift work table next to the tent. He grabbed it and turned back towards the action, but with his busted knee, it was more of a defense weapon than something he could help with.

Arrows flew and Norbert dived in, cawing and clawing. He didn’t appear to be hurting the beasts much, but he was distracting them until Castiel could put an arrow in their belly. That Castiel trusted himself to fire while Norbert was right there was either incredibly stupid or incredibly talented.

As Dean watched, he was going to go with talented. Castiel worked like a well-oiled machine, his jaw clenched in concentration, but otherwise showing no strain in his efforts. Earlier, in the forest, Dean had not watched Castiel fire the bow. He didn’t even see where the arrow had come from. Now, in the dark, and with nothing else to do but wait for something to get to him, Dean studied him closer and noticed something strange. Blue lines ran up and down Castiel’s muscles, following the path of his veins and glowing with an unearthly light. It was faint, perhaps unnoticeable in full light, but the glow was definitely there.

A story, a myth, a legend of long ago, tickled at the back of Dean’s mind. He turned his eyes to the path of the arrows, and watched as they impaled each and every beast with an arrow to the head. The arrows, too, were aglow with the same blue light from Castiel’s arm, fading as they found their target.

Dean’s jaw dropped, stunned. He knew what he was looking at it, and no one was ever going to believe him. 

Only one demon thing got through Castiel’s skilled defenses. It went straight for Dean, and he raised the knife with determination and sliced it open without hesitation the second it was within range. It didn’t bleed, it simply screamed and fell to the ground at Dean’s feet. Up close, it was even more hideous and Dean shivered again.

Castiel was kneeling by one of the corpses when Dean looked back up. All of the demons were gone.

“So,” he said, “When were you going to tell me you’re the Grace Archer?”

~

Sam frowned at Dean. “Seriously,” he said, flatly. “You’re making this up.”

They were gathered around their own campfire now, having gotten everything set up for the night while Dean told his story. Rations were broken out and flasks of wine shared. Kevin passed on the alcohol as he got a little loopy when he drank, so he avoided it. Charlie, however, could put away more than Dean without breaking a sweat.

“Why is it so hard for you to believe I’m telling you the truth?” Dean asked. “I thought you’d be most thrilled, he’s _your_ hero.”

Sam crossed his arms and didn’t respond. Dean didn’t understand the behavior. Keeping the fact that he had met Castiel from Sam had been one of the most difficult things he’d ever done, mostly because he assumed Sam would have been ecstatic to know he wasn’t a myth.

There was an awkward pause which Charlie chose to fill with an even more awkward question.

“You totally tapped some archer ass didn’t you?” she asked, with a smirk. Dean averted his eyes and she began to giggle. “Oh my god, you did. You totally slept with him.”

Kevin sighed and Sam groaned. Dean hadn’t really been with anyone since they started adventuring together, but they didn’t know that. He did his best to fake a story or two, and it worked, he had a reputation. One that Charlie loved to make lewd jokes and comments about, especially the men. Kevin and Sam were used to it, but that didn’t mean they accepted it.

“That’s not the story I’m telling,” Dean said. “Though I might if those two don’t stop with the gagging faces.”

Sam’s face sobered so fast, it must have hurt. “I forbid you to ever tell me those stories,” Sam said.

“No promises,” Dean replied with a grin, rubbing his hand through Sam’s hair. Sam batted his hand away.

“So what happened after you found out who he was?” Kevin asked. “Did he try to kill you?”

Dean frowned. “Why the hell would he do that?”

“Keep his secret?” Charlie ventured. She stretched her legs out and cricked her neck. “Besides, it’s hotter that way.”

Dean snorted. It figured that’s what Charlie would be interested in. Nothing was sexier than wanting to rip each other to pieces, right? “Sorry Charlie, but no, he did not try to kill me.”

~

Castiel froze like a deer caught in firelight. Dean waited. The only sound he heard was Norbert flying to the tree. Dean watched, seeing the moment Castiel had decided that the truth was well and truly out there, and that there was no point in trying to lie or deceive. He blew out a breath and his shoulders sagged.

“Never,” was Castiel’s answer. “That part of life died a long time ago.”

“Dude,” Dean said in disbelief. “Why? Why are you out here hiding? You could be famous.”

“I know,” he said softly. Castiel straightened, came to Dean with an outstretched hand. “You should be by the fire.”

Dean settled back onto his log, stretching his busted leg out carefully. There was a corpse of one of the demons about a foot away, and as Dean stared at it, it vanished in a small poof of black smoke. He looked to Cas, who had been watching it too. Only instead of confusion, his lips were pressed into a thin line of worry.

“Okay, that’s it,” Dean demanded. “You. Talk. Now.”

Castiel took a seat on Dean’s log this time and stared at the crackling flames for such a stretch that Dean was worried he was never going to get any answers. Finally, Castiel’s eyes fell to his hands collapsed in front of him and he spoke.

“I am what you know as the Grace Archer,” Castiel told him. “I am…” he turned his head sharply to the side and corrected, “was, an angel. A cupid, to be precise. When I first fell to Earth, I used my skills with a bow to help those in need and earned myself a reputation.”

This part, Dean knew from the tales. What he didn’t know was why Castiel had chosen isolation, willingly being forgotten into myth.

“I was eventually recruited by the court, and I served his Majesty well. But there was a dark sorcerer with an upstart young boy, and together they overthrew the throne,” Castiel explained. He turned his head to the side. “I… I don’t want to talk about it, but suffice it to say, I failed my King and people–” he swallowed– “people died.”

Dean was silent for a moment. “It sounds like you did everything you could. You’re only one person, Cas, it’s not your fault.”

Castiel huffed. “I appreciate the sentiment, Dean, but I am ashamed of my failure and what came of it, and I no longer want to live in the realm of man.”

“That’s not–”

“Dean, there is someone very powerful trying to kill you.”

Dean blinked several times at the abrupt change in conversation.

“What?”

“Those demons… there are very few people that could summon one,” Castiel explained. “And given that they found you out here, I suspect that personhas placed a mark on you.”

Dean cursed. “This isn’t going to go away, is it,” he said flatly.

Castiel shook his head. “I’m afraid even if your enemy lost interest in you, that mark will only draw other supernatural beasts to you in time. The only way to be rid of it is if he removes it or is killed.”

Dean buried his head in his hands. “I am so screwed.”

There was a shuffle from next to Dean before Castiel stood. “We should sleep,” he stated. “And tomorrow I will take you back to town.”

He made no other promises and Dean supposed that was fair enough. Castiel owed Dean nothing, and he was grateful for the help he could get.

The cabin Castiel helped Dean into after he smothered the fire was sparse, but still luxurious in its own right. There was a mattress made of animal skin and stuffed with what Dean would find out was an odd assortment of feathers. It sat on a wooden platform, hand crafted from different species of wood, slats carefully laid side by side, something holding them together. There was another bench, a chest, and a small table. It was all hand crafted and most of it was elaborately decorated with filigree, curls and shapes. Gorgeous.

As Dean crawled in to one side of the bed, Castiel fluffed an animal skin blanket and laid it over him.

“What about you?” Dean asked.

“I won’t need one,” Castiel replied.

“That’s ridiculous, it’s freezing. We can share,” Dean said. Castiel hesitated before nodding his agreement and sliding in beside Dean. He was stiff, and they were close, but not touching. “Sleep well, Cas.”

“Good night, Dean.”

Despite the events of the day, Dean fell asleep quickly.

~

“This is fucking hot,” Charlie mumbled with a smirk.

“It was, actually,” Dean responded. Before Kevin or Sam could protest, he continued.

~

That night, Dean discovered how Castiel was able to walk around in the cold without a tunic, why he didn’t need a blanket. The guy radiated heat like his veins were made of liquid blue coals. Dean started to sweat under the blanket and was finally forced to kick it off. He was still melting though, all of that heat trapped in the wooden walls, so he pulled off his tunic.

“Dean?” Castiel murmured weakly.

“How are you not melting your balls off?” Dean asked. Castiel made a small noise of confusion, so Dean added, “Never mind, go back to sleep Cas.” He hummed contentedly and the sound of heavy breathing filled the air once more.

Dean slept better when he didn’t feel like Castiel’s body heat was trying to roast him alive, and it felt like no time before Castiel was shaking him awake.

“Mmmph,” Dean groaned into the arm tossed across his face.

“The sun is up, we should get moving,” Castiel said.

Dean had never understood how people were able to get up at the ass crack of dawn, rising with the sun. But Castiel was clearly one of those people and it was time to head back to town.

The preparation for the journey was quick and easy. Dean didn’t have any belongings on him when he’d encountered his rescuer, and Castiel didn’t appear to have many belongings at all. He grabbed his bow and a quiver, and a small bag he must have prepared before Dean awoke.

Dean raised an eyebrow at that, but Castiel merely shrugged, and they were on their way.

The reverse of how they had come to Castiel’s camp, the mist slowly cleared to reveal a more normal forest backdrop. Given what Dean had learned about Castiel last night, he was beginning to wonder if Castiel had truly been attracted to the mist, or if he was creating it, with his unnatural body heat.

That was an exaggeration of course. He had turned the cabin into a sauna, but leaning on Castiel now, his skin merely felt warm, like it had been kissed by the sun.

“How’s your leg?” Castiel had asked him early in the journey.

Dean hadn’t even thought about it. He flexed his knee gingerly, and, feeling no pain, set his weight upon it slowly. A small twinge of pain, but nothing more.

“Whoa,” Dean said in surprise. “You sure you don’t have healing powers?”

Castiel shook his head. “Powers? No. But knowledge of herbs and enchantments, yes. That ointment I used yesterday was something I created. I’m pleased it worked.”

Bouncing on his leg a few times, Dean smiled wide, relieved to know that he wouldn’t be a gimp for the rest of his life. “Hey, I know you don’t like going to town, I could probably go the rest of the way on my own.”

Castiel raised an eyebrow. “You know the way?”

“Of course I–” Dean stopped abruptly when he realized he would probably end up back at Castiel’s camp sooner than make it to Droplet Falls.

“Mmm,” Castiel murmured, his lips pressed together, but humor danced behind his eyes. It made him look decades younger.

They walked the rest of the way side by side, Castiel not trusting Dean’s leg enough to get too far away, in case Dean needed his support. Dean was a little embarrassed by the doting. It wasn’t every day someone looked after him, but he didn’t complain. There was, after all, a warm, solid body trotting along beside him.

Dean could hear the sounds of town well before they broke the forest edge, and he suddenly realized he had no plan. He could try to go to the town guard, but considering this whole thing had started when he stole something, that might be a bad plan. They were also small town guardsmen and something told him that they wouldn’t be up to the task of taking on this guy.

That left confronting this man by himself. Maybe Dean could charm his way out of the mark, return the stolen money.

“Dean,” Castiel said sharply, throwing out an arm to stop him. Dean stood still as Castiel took a few steps to the left, lifted a branch, and pure horror nearly stopped Dean’s heart as Castiel revealed a young man, pale with death. There was no visible cause of death, but, as Dean looked closer, his eyes were missing.

A chill ran down Dean’s spine so sharply that a bucket of ice water would have been preferred.

“This is very bad,” Castiel said.

“Yeah, no shit!” Dean cried, backing up so sharply he fell and landed on his ass. “ Did– Did those things kill him on their way to me?”

Castiel shook his head. “No. Your nemesis set them on him.”

“What… What am I going to do, Cas? I can’t face this. I’m going to end up like him,” Dean said, nodding to the body. “Fuck!” Dean exclaimed, running his hands into his hair, pulling sharply on the strands.

“I’ll come with you.”

“You– What?”

Castiel nodded, his blue eyes shining in the daylight streaming through the canopy. “I will help you find the person that put his mark on you. This is very, very bad, Dean, I’m not sure anyone else can help you with this. ”

Dean blinked several times, trying to find the words to describe even a fraction of the thoughts in his head. “You’ve been in hiding for years.”

“I sneak in and steal a book from time to time,” Castiel said, tilting his head and raising the bag at his side, a faint smile gracing his lips. “And return it for a new one. Eventually,”

“You rebel,” Dean said, smirking.

“You have no idea.”

~

“Saw that coming,” Charlie stated from atop her horse. It was midday and they were making good time. Dean suspected he’d make it to Castiel’s camp by the next day. Assuming he hadn’t moved, of course.

“Everyone saw that coming,” Kevin agreed. “No offense, Dean,” he said, shooting Dean an apologetic look. “But this is storytelling 101. And you clearly have a bigger history with this Castiel than just spending one night in his cabin.”

Charlie snickered.

“Yeah, well, not everyone is a master of the word like you, shortcake,” Dean grumbled.

He watched as Sam ducked beneath a low branch up ahead. They’d have to walk the horses if the brush got too thick.

Sam hadn’t turned around to comment for a while. He’d been riding quietly, still in whatever mood had befallen him earlier.

“Yo, Sammy!” Dean hollered. “I can’t see your bitchface if you won’t look at me!” Sam turned around sharply at that, face in full bitch mode. “What’s your problem?”

“I just wish you’d tell us what we’re really doing out here,” Sam said.

“You don’t trust me?”

Sam sighed. “I always trust you, Dean. But you’re lying to us and I don’t know why.”

Charlie put a hand on Dean’s arm, stopping him from replying. “Don’t mind Sam. What did you and Castiel do next? What did you do with the body? Was the guy still in the town?”

~

Castiel had suggested they bring the body closer to town and allow someone else to discover it. He was concerned he and Dean would be blamed, and they didn’t have time for an interrogation. There was a man killing people and he needed to be stopped.

Dean still wasn’t sure how he ended up in the position of having to stop this man, but considering his own life was on the line, and Castiel could help kill the things attacking him, he really didn’t have any other choice.

After moving the body ten feet or so to the edge of the forest, Dean led the way to the tavern in hopes that his nemesis was still around.

The tavern was mostly empty, it being too early in the day for many people to be drinking or relaxing. Everyone was working, except, Dean noted, an elderly man at a table, and his own father, passed out over a tankard in the corner.

 _Damn it, Dad_.

Dean shook off his disappointment at seeing his dad there, and moved to speak to the bartender and owner. His name was Joe, and Dean had made it a point to learn his name the second him, Sammy, and dad had made it to village. Knowing the owner of a local tavern (or two, if it was large enough of a town) was always a smart move.

Joe was eyeing Dean with suspicion, which really didn’t say much as to whether he recognized him or not.

“Hi, there was a guy in here yesterday evening, tall, dark hair–”

“Yeah, I remember,” Joe gruffed. “You _robbed_ ‘im. What, comin’ back for more? Ya made him leave town ya know, thought my establishment wasn’t safe.”

Unease washed over Dean. Castiel shifted awkwardly next to Dean, his eyes darting around the room. This would be tricky.

“Um,” Dean responded, trying to buy a second to evaluate which lie would work best. It depended on how certain the barkeep was that Dean had been the pickpocket, and he looked pretty certain. “Yeah, I feel really bad about that, I want to give him his money back, so if you know where–”

“Guards!” Joe yelled. “Guards! I have a dirty little pickpocket here!”

“Dean,” Castiel said in a low voice. “I do believe we should run.”

“Yeah, good idea,” Dean agreed.

One minute they were standing peacefully, the next they were dashing at a mad sprint out of the tavern. The barkeep grabbed a broom and attempted to trip them with the handle, but Dean jumped over it awkwardly while Castiel leapt like a graceful gazelle. Two guardsman were just outside the door, shocked when Dean and Castiel came barreling into them. Rather than push through the guards, Dean and Castiel turned and ran up the street. They were halfway through town by the time the guards yelled, “Stop, thieves!”

“Only one of us!” Dean shouted back. “The other is a ranger!”

Dean and Cas ran wildly down the street, jumping carts and dodging pedestrians, and the guardsmen kept pace. They were nearing the end of the Droplet Falls on the North end and the forest became visible once more as they turned a corner. Castiel took control then, and quickly navigated them back to the forest, and from there, they were finally able to outmaneuver and lose the simple small town guards.

Standing in the middle of a thicket, Dean flung an arm around Castiel and began to laugh.

“I haven’t had that much fun in years, Cas,” Dean said.

Castiel attempted to smile back, but he seemed to be more amused by Dean than by anything else. “This is fun?”

“Yeah, man,” Dean said, patting him twice before removing his arm, “that was fun.”

Though Castiel still clearly did not understand what was fun about successfully escaping not one, not two, but three people trying to stop them, when Dean was only trying to find the guy so he could _not die_ , he let Dean laugh the hysteria of the past 24 hours out before he proposed moving on.

“Dean, I get the impression this man was not a local,” Castiel started. Dean nodded. “Then we should head for the next town,” he proposed. “Maybe we’ll find his trace there.”

“Yeah,” Dean agreed, sobering up. “Alright.”

He had a bad feeling they weren’t going to find this sorcerer-whatever in the next town. In fact, he suspected this was going to take a while. Sam’s birthday was in a week, and he had to be there for it. It was bad enough he was going to have to send Sam a message about where he went when they get to the next town, he _really_ didn’t want to have to explain missing a birthday. Or worse, never getting to explain at all, cause his soul was sucked out of his eyeballs.

They maneuvered along the forest edge for a while, keeping off The Royal Road that ran between towns on this side of The Great Forest, just to be safe. After an hour or two, there was a squawk, and Norbert began to follow them from the sky. It seemed to make Castiel happy.

“Tell me about your family, Dean,” Castiel asked after a time of comfortable silence.

“Not much to tell. Dad’s a drunk, Sam’s a good kid and I just try to keep him healthy and fed,” Dean explained. He shrugged. “We move around a lot, makes having friends hard.”

“I can imagine,” Castiel said in agreement. “You did not mention your mother.”

Dean had to swallow around the sudden lump in his throat. He picked careful footing over a fallen log, trying to buy himself a moment. Castiel was becoming a familiar presence at his side, but they hadn’t known each other that long.

“She died,” Dean finally said. “A long, long time ago. She had snuck into Sam’s room, to rock him or something, I’m not really sure, but when she turned around, a guy was there. I didn’t see him, it was too dark and he was like a shadow. Dad did though. He managed to kill him, but not before mom…”

Castiel placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. “You don’t have to continue.”

Dean took a deep breath and nodded.

It was late afternoon by the time they reached the outskirts of the next town up, a slightly bigger place called Rain Puddle. They passed a few farms spread out and decided it was time to move back to The Royal Road, leaving Norbert back at the forest. Sure enough, the distant farms became cottages that were closer and closer together, until they were passing a wooden, carved sign which said, “Welcome to Rain Puddle.” Dean cracked his fingers overhead as he considered what they should do first.

“Well we should probably head to another tavern or inn,” Dean said. “But this would probably be easier if you blended in a bit better.” When Castiel tilted his head to the side in confusion, Dean added, “No offense. I kind of like you bare-chested.”

Castiel looked down at this chest as if he was surprised to find that he wasn’t wearing a top.

“I will defer to your expertise,” he stated.

Luckily, they found a tailor that wasn’t far into the village of Rain Puddle. They walked in and a short woman with dark skin greeted. She said she’d been expecting them, which was weird since she’d have no way to know they were coming, and told them her name was Missouri. Which was a weird name, but considering she’d whapped Dean’s knuckles when he reached for a small figurine of a cat on the counter, he wasn’t going to tell her what he thought of her name.

Something about the look Missouri gave him told Dean she already knew anyway.

She seemed to enjoy sizing Castiel with her measuring tape, and proposed several tops that Dean kept turning down while Castiel just shrugged.

In the end, Castiel ended up with a simple dark blue tunic that the woman insisted brought out his eyes. When Dean silently agreed, she winked at him.

Dean paid for Castiel’s clothes with the money he stole from the guy trying to kill him and didn’t feel remotely bad about it. There was something circular in the logic, some sort of cycle of life bullshit, a meaningful metaphor, but Dean was happy with calling it irony and moving on.

The tavern was on the other side of town and by the time they reached it, a soft patter of rain had begun to fall. More irony, Dean supposed, for there to be puddles forming in the streets of Rain Puddle.

Walking into the warm interior of The Singing Stag was like walking into a cozy little heaven. The place was lit with candles and the large fireplace on the side wall, bathing the wooden beams and rugged floor in a warm orange glow. A hand crafted rug set off an area near the fireplace of couches and plush chairs, while the other side of the tavern featured worn wooden tables and, Dean was pleased to note, a large bar with a larger selection, which he headed straight for.

“Two shots of whatever will make my friend here funnier,” Dean told the barkeep. Castiel frowned, and toyed carefully at the edge of the glass set in front of them.

Dean watched intently while Castiel finally sipped at the glass, expecting him to sputter. But he surprised Dean completely by nodding instead. “Nice hint of apple,” Castiel said. “Dean what are you doing? Shouldn’t we be–”

“Shhh,” Dean whispered, pressing a finger to his lip just briefly. “Barkeeps and townspeople talk more if you blend in, have some fun, spend some money.”

Castiel nodded wisely. “I see,” he said, finishing his shot in one go. “Then we will have two more, please.”

The plan had been to have a few drinks and then ask about “their friend.” And Dean somewhat succeeded in that plan, dropping a question or two about a friend traveling through, one dressed all in black, but he didn’t really get anywhere. Everyone was too drunk or entertained to be bothered. At some point he’d just said ‘fuck it’ and decided to join the fun. After the last 24 hours, he figured karma owed it to him.

He was having a good time and hated knowing that something would spoil it sooner or later. Castiel was telling jokes about goats that no one got, but everyone in the bar was laughing at anyway, and Dean was telling stories about his brother and the strange things they had seen in different towns. The lady next to him refused to believe that they had really seen a goat with two heads, and honestly, some part of Dean’s brain didn’t believe it either.

Somewhere, someone found a lute and another man grabbed bucket to bang on, and as the rain picked up outside, a party was raging inside.

“Cas!” Dean said, pulling on his arm, “Caaaas,” he slurred again. “We should dance!”

Castiel jerked in surprise. “I’m not sure I can,” he said, getting off his stool anyway and nearly falling over, just to prove his point.

“Nonsense!” Dean exclaimed. He placed a hand on Castiel waist, to the other in his own, and sashayed Castiel around the room like a pair of drunken baboons.

They tripped and stumbled, bumped into each other poorly, but Castiel was laughing gleefully, more relaxed and filled with life than Dean had ever seen him. He was beautiful when he smiled, his nose crinkled just right. He wanted to kiss that nose.

His rash thought was cut off as a young woman burst through the door, screaming, “Demons! Demons outside!”

Dean and Castiel shared a quick glance, suddenly serious and considerably more sober. Without sharing a word, they both moved for the door.

“Shit!” Dean cursed loudly as one of the damned winged beasts dived for his head. At least he assumed it was a beast. The sun was down and the rain was blocking moonlight and starlight, obscuring his vision.

But fortunately, not Castiel’s.

“Dean!” Castiel called. “Duck!”

Dean ducked just as an arrow flew over his head and embedded itself in the flying beast above him. Confident that was one out for the count, Dean stood back up and saw that there were three more coming down the street. People that were still out in the now dark town were screaming and running, darting into the nearest building and slamming the door.

Right in front of Dean, a girl tripped. She screamed and covered her head, a demon flying straight at her.

“Hey!” Dean called out. He acted without thinking. He bent for the first thing he could find (a rock) and chucked it at the beast. The stone made contact, something that mildly surprised Dean, considering the world was still fuzzy with alcohol and made slightly blurry with rain. The beast jerked, paused, and dove straight for Dean.

The good part was that he had given the girl an opportunity to get up and dart inside the inn. The bad part was that a winged soul sucker was now bearing down on him with claws and fangs out. It was like a feral beast, no concern for anything but maiming Dean and stealing his soul.

“You little piece of shit,” Dean grumbled at him. He held up his arm, fighting the attacks off as best he could while his other arm scrambled for anything he could use as a weapon. His hand wrapped around a rock, this one heavier than the first, and he raised it sharply, aiming for the demon’s head. At least, he hoped he was aiming for the head. Though the excitement had taken the edge off, the world was still spinning slightly. Fortunately, with a crack, the rock made contact.

The fangs retracted and the claws released his arm, so Dean did it again, hitting hard. On the third hit, it fell to the ground.

Dean was panting hard as he looked up to see what had happened with the other two demons. Naturally, Cas had shot them down. He was just shouldering his bow as Dean’s eyes crossed to him. He caught Dean’s gaze and came over quickly.

“Are you okay?” he asked, fussing over his arm.

“Just scratches,” Dean responded, a tone of petulance in his voice.

Castiel nodded, content with the answer. Then he looked at the demon beast thrashing weakly on the ground and sighed. He removed an arrow from his quiver and embedded it into the beast’s chest. It stilled.

Dean was still staring at it as it disappeared. “We can’t stay here,” he finally said. “These things are following me. That woman nearly died because of me.”

A hand fell gently on his shoulder. “The beast was always aiming for you, she just happened to be in between you and it.”

“What?”

“I told you before that the man we found outside Droplet Falls had been targeted,” Castiel began to explain. “I should add that those demons will _only_ attack those they are set upon.”

The door to the tavern opened behind them with a creak.

“What the hell were those things?” the barkeep bellowed. “Did you two just save us all?”

The lady Dean had rescued popped her head around the door. “That’s him, the one that got that demon off me!”

“Then we owe them a debt,” the barkeep responded. “Come back in boys, let us toast to your victory over those demons from hell!”

Dean chuckled weakly, even as his stomach turned. He didn’t think he could drink any more. Still, he told the barkeep they’d be right there.

Castiel was working on collecting his arrows and was already to the two from the long distance shots. He froze when he reached the last arrow.

“Cas?” Dean asked as the other man moved slowly towards the forest, going behind the back of a building. He motioned for Dean to follow, so he caught up with a short jog. Turning the corner of the building, it was still too dark to see what Castiel was looking at, but it became clearer as they approached the forest. His stomach churned and he knew there’d be no more drinking or eating tonight.

It was an eyeless woman.

“Well, fuck,” Dean mumbled, looking away sharply. She was probably poor. Her clothes had been ragged, and her long, blonde hair had been dirty and not well kept. That… that would have been Dean if it wasn’t for Cas.

“At least we appear to be on the right path. He definitely passed through here,” Castiel said. “Or is still here.”

Dean shuddered. “What do we do?”

“Accept those offered drinks, as any hero would do,” Castiel said, though ‘hero’ sounded more than a little sarcastic, “and tomorrow we continue our search. If he has not appeared, we’ll continue north.”

“Cas, winged demon beasts are following me and just scared the shit out of this town, I’m not sure we should stay–”

Castiel smiled at him. “Your concern is sweet. I don’t believe you will be attacked again for a while. Your nemesis can’t possibly know where you are. Those beasts were already here for her, and were simply pulled to you.”

“Yeah, that seems like my luck,” Dean says. “Fine, let’s go back to The Singing Stag. Get a room. Dry off.”

The rain, it seemed, was picking up, and it was time to get out of it. The air was not cold enough for the rain to be snow, but it was cold enough for it to be dangerous to be out in the rain for long without a cloak.

As Dean predicted, he could barely stomach the beer and the celebratory cheers from the tavern folk. There was little worry about what had just happened, which made Dean wonder if they were used to random attacks by strange creatures. Some towns seemed to be more susceptible than others.

The good thing about having to join the merriment is that it gave him and Cas another opportunity to regroup and take care of business. They asked about “their friend,” but still got nothing useful. Dean also inquired about a messaging service, if they had anyone that regularly ran to Droplet Falls. They did, so he wrote a quick message to Sam explaining that he had something come up and he’d be back as soon as he could.

Once it seemed appropriate enough to beg off, Dean inquired about a room. The only space left was a room with a single bed, and Dean assured him that was fine. They would work out sleeping arrangements.

“The bed is yours, Dean,” Castiel explained. “I need little sleep, I will stand watch tonight, to be sure my assessment about the beasts was correct.”

“Suit yourself,” Dean said, shrugging and crawling into bed.

Dean had thought, after the adventure of the day, he’d fall right asleep. He was wrong. He was worried, and, if he let himself admit it, scared. But what weighed on his heart the most was how thoroughly he had screwed up.

To top it all off, the room didn’t have a fireplace, and was freezing cold. The sound of the rain on the glass, though normally something that helped him sleep, now served to make the room feel even more miserable.

“I’m a mess, Cas,” Dean finally said after hours of not sleeping. He could just make out Castiel tilting his head in the dark, the only sign that Castiel had heard him. “My brother is going to hate me. I’m going to miss his birthday, all because I wanted to get him a pastry.”

Castiel didn’t respond right away. He broke from his guard position by the wall to come sit on the bed beside Dean.

“You stole from a dark warlock to buy your brother a pastry?” he asked, crossing his feet at the ankle and folding his hands in his lap.

“I know, I know,” Dean said. “We don’t have money, and we move too much for me to get a job. But he’s a good kid, ya know? He deserves good things. And that guy clearly had more money than he needed so…”

“So you stole,” Castiel filled in. Dean nodded. “Why would your brother hate you for trying to do something nice for him?” Castiel asked.

“I– I broke the law,” Dean supplied like it was obvious.

“There is more to life than laws,” Castiel replied.

Dean blinked twice, surprised. He’d thought, if anyone was going to have an issue with his law breaking, it would be an angel. “For real? That doesn’t bother you?” Dean asked. “All moral and goodness, Mister Angel?”

Castiel surprised him by chuckling fondly. “There is also more to goodness than law,” Castiel replied. “And you are talking to an _ex_ -angel, Dean. I’m hardly the best example for rule following.”

“Oh yeah? You mentioned that earlier, that you’re a rebel,” Dean said. “What did you do Cas, refuse to play the harp?”

A sad looked passed over his face. “I refused to do my job,” Castiel said. “The young woman I was sent to shoot with my bow, she was already in love. But heaven wanted her with someone else, and I refused. I’d long since doubted that my job was just, but that was the final straw. How could I destroy happiness all for the sake of bloodlines Heaven might need one day?”

“They wanted you to force two people together that didn’t love each other?”

Castiel’s laugh this time was bitter. “That is the very definition of a Cupid, Dean,” he said. “But I believe humanity should have the right to choose.”

Dean sat up so he could look at Castiel more closely and meet his gaze. There was hardly any light in the room, but Castiel’s dark blue eyes still seemed to shine somehow. He wanted to do something huge and meaningful. He settled instead for squeezing Castiel’s folded hands, mumbling, “Good for you,” and laying back down.

Just before he finally drifted off, Dean added, “I’m glad you’re a rebel.”

~

“I always thought that Cupid shit was rubbish too,” Kevin said next to Dean. He adjusted his hold on the reigns of his horse. “I hate those stories the most. Like, c’mon guys, don’t you get that it’s all fake?”

Charlie shrugged. “If the couple is happy, who cares where it comes from?”

That surprised Dean. Charlie was usually the cynic.

“You going soft, Charlie?” Dean teased.

“She’s just falling for your carefully crafted tale of love and adventure,” Sam chimed in, glancing at them.

Charlie shot him a disapproving look. “Just presenting another way to look at it,” She clarified. “Love is love.”

“And he was going to destroy love to make new love,” Kevin said. Then he thought about how ridiculous that sentence sounded and blushed. Waving a hand, he said, “Just. Continue.”

~

Dean awoke to the horrible sound of a blood curdling scream.

He bolted up, prepared to fight like a heathen once again against a horde of demon bat things, but there was nothing to be seen. The room was awash in the light of dawn, and the only thing of note was that Castiel was still sitting next to him.

“I believe, now that sunlight is breaking and people are starting their day, that someone discovered the body,” Castiel said calmly.

“Well crap,” Dean said, stretching his arms above his head and cracking his neck. “We should probably get going then.”

Castiel agreed. It was likely they would blame the death on the demons, but they would probably seek out the ‘heroes’ from the previous night to question them about said demons, and they didn’t have time for that. They had no more business in the town, and it was time to move on.

They snuck out the back door and scuffled down the back streets until the made it far away from the crime scene before they cut back to The Royal Road, winding through town. There were several merchants in this area, and Dean stopped buy some sausage for breakfast and bread to take on the road while Castiel checked out an armory. When they met back up, Dean nearly dropped the sausage.

“What did you buy those for?” he asked. Castiel was holding two long swords, both with scabbards attached.  “ _How_ did you buy those?”

“I didn’t,” Castiel replied, walking away. "But I will pay him later, when all of this is over. Most merchants accept dear meat.”

“Okay…” Dean said, doing a little jog to catch up to Castiel’s retreating form. He apparently had no time to handle Dean’s frozen surprise. “Now answer the other part.”

“I’m going to teach you how to fight,” Castiel said casually. 

“Um,” Dean said, still unsure of just what the hell was going on.

“You have too much potential to waste it on rocks, Dean.”

Dean had to laugh at that. “Hey, I was pretty good with that rock.”

“Yes,” Castiel agreed. “Yes you were.”

They walked in companionable silence, following the meandering road north to the next town. The day was surprisingly warm compared to the last, and though there were still puddles on the ground, the rain had passed and the sun was out.

At mid-day they stopped for a rest, Dean sitting in the grassy meadow to the east of the road, facing the ever present forest to the west. He offered some of the bread to Cas, but he refused, so Dean ate all of it himself.

While he ate, Castiel sat beside him, swords in his lap, and began to run his fingers along the edges of the blade. A faint blue wavered on the surface of the steal before it seemed to sink in.

“What are you doing?” Dean asked, curious.

“Imbuing it with my grace,” Castiel explained. “I believe only a weapon treated with grace can kill those demons. They are from Hell, and grace is their antidote.”

“Seriously?” Dean asked. “So when I bashed that one with a rock–”

“It was dazed and wounded, but I had to finish it with my arrow, if you recall.”

Dean did recall. He also assumed the knife back at Castiel’s camp was similarly treated.

“That doesn’t hurt you, to do that?” Dean asked. Castiel looked at him strangely then, uncomprehending. “What?”

“Forgive me,” Castiel answered. “No one has ever truly cared about my well-being before.”

“No way,” Dean said. “Not even in Heaven, before you fell?”

“Especially not Heaven.”

“Well that’s just really shitty,” Dean said, finishing the least of his bread and wiping his hands on his pants. “Everyone deserves someone to care about them.”

Castiel didn’t respond. His eyes softened, and for a moment, Dean thought Castiel was going to kiss him. He looked away sharply instead. After a pause, he took a deep breath and stood, taking the two swords with him. He presented one of them to Dean.

“What, now?” Dean asked.

“Now,” Castiel confirmed. “I will teach you some basics.”

All in all, the basics ended up being one of the hardest lessons Dean had ever had in anything. He didn’t even know how to hold the sword right at first, how to stand. Sparring was a joke the first time he attempted it. But after an hour had passed, he thought he might be getting the hang of it.

At least, Castiel thought so.

He lowered his sword with a huge smile on his face. “You’re a natural, Dean,” Castiel said. “You’ll surpass me quickly I fear.”

“You?” Dean asked, incredulous.

“My skills lie in the bow,” Castiel explained.

Dean had seen him work the bow. He wasn’t lying.

They continued north after the short break, only this time, Castiel insisted Dean carry his own sword. The weight of it felt both strange and normal on Dean’s hip, hanging from the scabbard as they journeyed the rest of the way to the next town of Wind Driven. It was a long walk, much longer than either had anticipated. Usually towns sat within a day’s journey, but the distances could vary. They were both pretty confident the nearest town was coming, so even as the sun began to set, they continued walking.

There was still a faint warm glow on the edges of the sky when the demons came flying at them, straight out from the setting orange ball in the west, making it seem as if they were coming straight from the mouth of hell itself. Castiel prepped his bow and let three arrows fly in quick succession before they were remotely in Dean’s striking distance.

He prepared himself, drawing his sword and assuming the stance he had learned just a few short hours earlier. The beasts were as terrifying as ever, but now that Dean had some notion of how to defend himself beyond wildly wielding a rock, he felt fortified. His lips pressed thin in determination, and as one got past Castiel’s bow, he raised the sword and slashed.

It made contact and sliced right through the beast, which disappeared from existence before the sword had even finished slicing. Castiel shot Dean a smirk and he let two more arrows fly. He was proud of Dean, and for some reason, that made Dean blush.

Dean sliced at only one more beast, the blade connecting and the thing disappearing nearly instantly, before they were once again demon-free.

They stood for a few moments, catching their breath and watching the horizon, just in case a straggler showed up. Dean holstered his blade and turned to Cas.

“Does that attack mean what I think it does?”

With the exception of the first attack on Dean, they’d only encountered beasts when someone had been killed by them nearby.

Castiel’s lips thinned, but he was already nodding his reply. “Someone was killed recently,” he said, voicing Dean’s fear.

The revelation put a damper on Dean’s mood as they continued on to town. The only good thing about the demons was that it meant they had to be close to Wind Driven now, and they arrived with a somber air.

Arriving at the closest tavern, the somber air did not improve. It didn’t take long to learn that there had indeed been a death, two actually. A beloved politician and his daughter. The girl had been only eight years old.

Even though it was irrational, Dean felt like an ass, interrupting the mourning of the people in the tavern to ask for some food and a room for the night. He passed on his sympathies, and Castiel looked too upset to even get a word out. He picked at his stew, only eating half.

“I need less food than most humans,” Castiel explained. Dean thought that might be true, but that didn’t discount some emotional eating too.  Or not eating, as the case may be.

Not much information was gathered that night. Dean didn’t want to pester the town’s people with questions when it was obvious the person they were looking for had been here, and, he was confident enough, had already moved on. But they did learn that the townsfolk believed they were killed by wild animals. No one would be seeking a crazy murdering sorcerer in Wind Driven.

That night, Dean merely motioned for Castiel to join him on the other side of the bed, and Castiel took his place without protest. He sat, stretching his legs out and crossing his feet at the ankle, lacing his fingers and settling them on his stomach.

“You have to sleep at some point,” Dean mumbled, crawling in beneath the bedclothes.

“I will,” Castiel assured him. “But as I need less than you, I will keep watch for most of the night.” He looked to Dean, his blue eyes dancing in the moonlight. “Get some rest, Dean.”

Dean closed his eyes, but he couldn’t stop imagining the beasts, vicious and cruel, coming after a father and his little girl. What could they have possibly done to deserve such a fate? Or was the man they were seeking just crazy?

“Why is he killing these people, Cas?” Dean asked. “What could they have done to earn his ire?”

Castiel was silent a long time before he responded. “Sometimes humans are cruel and senseless,” he said. “Some merely exist, neither good nor bad, simply going about their mundane lives.” He looked to Dean, and raised a hand, letting the back of it brush Dean’s cheek. “Then there are people like you, born good and kind, lights in a dim world.”

Dean felt like he couldn’t breathe. No one spoke so kindly of him. No one. He was a petty thief. If he was called anything, it wouldn’t be good or kind.

“Sleep, Dean,” Castiel said, stroking the back of his hand back and forth gently on Dean’s skin. “We will find him. Sooner or later he will pause too long and we will catch up with him. Until then, you still need sleep.”

“Kay,” Dean managed to croak out. Castiel’s hand slipped away and Dean instantly missed it.

~

Charlie looked like she ate something that tasted like skunk. Which she had accidentally done once, it was kind of hilarious.

“What?” Dean asked, defensive.

“It’s just,” Charlie began, having a hard time finding words. “I expected you to hook up. I wasn’t prepared for all this.”

“For what? Feelings?”

“Yeah.”

Kevin snorted from nearby. “Charlie has issues,” he stated. “Don’t listen to her, man, I think it’s sweet.”

Sam sighed from in front of them. He was silhouetted in the trees, the sun getting low in the sky. They’d have to stop for the night soon. “It _is_ sweet. Which is weird. Why would you make up so much sap when you hate that kind of thing?”

Dean shook his head in disappointment. When they met up with Cas, Sam was going to owe him one hell of an apology.

~

It was nice to awaken naturally for a change, and comfortably at that. His arms were wrapped around a comfy blob of warmth and his nose, which tends to get chilly on the tip, was buried deep in between–

Shoulder blades?

Dean pulled back sharply.

Castiel whimpered in his sleep, wrapped a hand around Dean’s wrist, and forcefully pulled him back into a snuggling position. Dean tried to withdraw, sensing that the awkward would set in any second now, but Castiel refused to let go. He was an insistent snuggler.

Well fine. If he wasn’t going to let Dean go, he was the one who could feel weird about it. So Dean fell back asleep to catch a few more winks, rubbing his cooling nose back in between shoulder blades.

When he awoke the second time that morning, Castiel was sitting up and staring down at Dean with an amused grin. Dean’s arm was wrapped around his thighs and his face had been buried in Castiel’s hip.

Dean jerked away, and this time, Castiel let him go.

“Uh.”

“It’s okay,” Castiel assured him.

That was irritating. “It better damn well be okay, since you wouldn’t let me pull away last night,” Dean told him.

Castiel’s grin faltered. “You had your arms around me and I wouldn’t let you leave?” Castiel asked. Dean nodded, yes, now he understood. Then Castiel added with a quirked lip, “Why were you holding me in the first place?”

Dean’s jaw dropped. “That’s, that’s not–”

The grin turned into a chuckle. “Dean, it’s okay. It was a chilly night, people cuddle for warmth all the time. We both only did what was natural.”

Somehow, it irritated Dean that Castiel could brush it off so easily. It also made him blush a little bit, feeling silly for overreacting. It’s not like they had sex or something. That couldn’t happen accidentally at night, could it? He couldn’t roll over and slip on in, right?

Castiel jostled him out of his thoughts by standing up with a stretch. Time to get the day going.

It went similar to the previous morning, only this time, Castiel didn’t steal anything. Dean bought some bread for lunch again, adding a water flask and some trail nuts, and they set out for another leg of their journey. This time, at least, Dean knew it would be a long day. The sign post outside town had indicated it was 25 miles to Snow Bitten. They probably wouldn’t arrive until well past sun fall.

When they broke for lunch, Castiel once again taught Dean about sword play. It was truly amazing to watch Castiel work his sword. He moved like liquid, like it was nothing more than a dance to him. He might not be the best swordsman, but he was still skilled, and even more graceful. His toned, firm body distracted Dean only a few times before he disciplined himself, focusing on the blades.

It didn’t help that early in, Castiel had been advancing on him when Dean tripped over a wide rock he hadn’t seen and landed on his ass. Only Castiel was moving forward too fast to stop and too close to see the rock, and tripped on it too, landing flat on top of Dean.

Castiel pushed himself up on his hands quickly and breathed deeply for a few seconds, looking stunned and unable to process their positions.

No that certainly hadn’t helped Dean’s concentration.

But at least he was learning, and he could honestly say that their breaks for sword play could quickly become a favorite part of his day if this routine continued for much longer. He enjoyed working his muscles and learning how to move his weapon. Castiel was a good teacher.

As predicted, they arrived at Snow Bitten well into the evening hours and those at the local tavern were already thoroughly sloshed. They ordered dinner, Castiel for once being almost as hungry as Dean, and dug in, watching the townspeople laugh and talk and dance.

Rather, Dean watched Castiel watch the people laugh and talk and dance. The look on the ex-cupid’s face was fond. It continually surprised Dean how a hermit that had shunned living with mankind was so happy around people. A little awkward, maybe, like he hadn’t engaged people in a really long time and the average flow of conversation had changed, but he seemed to have a place among them nonetheless.

Dean touched Castiel’s arm gently. He looked at Dean, surprised.

“You love humanity,” Dean said bluntly, emphasizing the word love.

Castiel didn’t deny it. He smiled, but it was one laced with sadness. “It’s beautiful,” Castiel responded. “I love it all. I love how youthful and full of life those kids in the corner are as they play their game of Pebbles. I love the way that table over there, clearly a group of friends, possibly colleagues, is joking around and fondly teasing each other. And,” Castiel took a breath and nodded to the side, “that.”

To Castiel’s left was a young couple, a girl with long, auburn hair and a man, no older than Dean himself, with brown hair and wide eyes. They were touching each other’s hands gently and leaning close to each other, whispering and giggling. Their cheeks were flushed with warmth and fondness. Dean had to admit, the scene was heartwarming.

“You’re not bitter about love yet, given your history?” Dean asked.

Castiel shook his head. “If anything, my time with humanity, living damn near as close to one as I can be, has made me appreciate it more. Maybe even…” Castiel let his voice trail off.

“Long for it?” Dean hazard a guess. Castiel looked beautiful right then. He always did, of course, but now, there was a strange mixture of vulnerability and age. Innocence and wisdom. Dean leaned closer, lowered his voice, and asked, “Have you ever been in love, Cas?”

The breath Castiel sucked in was loaded. He met Dean’s eye before glancing to his lips and then darting away. “No,” he finally said. “I haven’t had the occasion.”

Dean wanted to kiss him. It was an undeniable urge. He wanted it like he wanted a good beer. No, that wasn’t quite right. A warm blanket on a cold night. Closer, maybe.

No, he wanted Castiel like a fire wants wood, or a tree wants a downpour. It wasn’t a want, it was a need.

One he couldn’t fulfill in the middle of a busy tavern. It didn’t feel right.

“Hey um,” Dean said, “I’m going to go ask for a room for the night.” His face reddened quickly. “Not uh, I didn’t mean it like that. We just need a place to stay, and we haven’t asked about that warlock yet, and…” He palmed the back of his neck nervously. It didn’t help that Castiel was smiling at him fondly.

“Go,” Castiel said. “I’ll wait here.” Castiel picked up his beer and Dean stared as Castiel took a sip, transfixed on his lips. “Dean.”

First he asked the bartender about their “friend.” Dean wasn’t any closer to knowing where the man was, but he did find out some interesting information. The man had been asking about the people of the town, strange, personal questions, like if anyone knew where they hailed from and things like that. Dean asked if the bartender could write the names down of the people he inquired about. Though the bartender gave him a suspicious look, he wrote them down nonetheless. Then Dean asked for a room, and he pointed Dean to a short woman with shorter brown hair.

The innkeeper was not helpful, or very helpful, depending on how you look at it. She was busy bussing tables and barely gave him a glance as she informed Dean that they only had a single bed room available. The price was reasonable, but if they didn’t catch Dean’s foe, they’d have to come up with some more cash soon.

He turned to walk away, but a thought occurred to him.

“How much for a bath?”

It was far more than he expected, but this was his fourth night away from home, and given everything they’d been through, he wanted to splurge a little. So he paid for the bath and she promised someone would bring up the tub soon.

“C’mon,” Dean whispered into Castiel ear, “I’ve got some information, let’s head to the room.”

Castiel followed him up the stairs and into room 4, closing the door gently behind them. Dean lit the lamp on the bedside table and took on seat on the bedspread, crossing his legs. Castiel went to the other side and mimicked the movement, facing Dean. He looked kind of cute, sitting like kids do.

“The dude is asking weird questions about specific people in town,” Dean explained. “Where they come from and what their family names are. I’ve got a list, I thought maybe we should check them out.”

Nodding, Castiel look about as surprised as one would be to hear that it rained yesterday.

“You’re not surprised,” Dean stated.

“I had a hunch the killings weren’t random,” Castiel explained.

“We didn’t find a body today.”

“No,” Castiel agreed. “But that doesn’t mean there wasn’t a kill. The guards could have already discovered a body. Maybe we should check with them.”

“That would be a bad idea,” Dean said. “It would only make them suspicious. But we could casually bring it up when we’re checking on this list, see what falls out.”

Castiel nodded. “Agreed,” he said. “And Dean,” he said, leaning closer, “I hate to say this, but that also means we have no idea if there are beasts nearby or not. But I swear,” Castiel added, bringing his hand up and cupping Dean’s cheek. “I will continue to protect you.”

Dean leaned into the touch. He wanted to be embarrassed at needing protecting, but it felt so good to have someone watching out for him that he couldn’t bring himself to care.

They were interrupted by a knock on the door. Castiel raised up, on high alert, so Dean put a hand on his shoulder as he passed him on the way to the door. “I ordered a bath,” he explained. Castiel’s eyebrows went to the ceiling, which Dean found strange. Baths weren’t that weird.

He opened the door and two guys carried in a tub, followed by two more that brought in basins to fill it up. By the time it was ready and the men had left, the room was already filled with steam.

“Perfect,” Dean mumbled with a smile.

“I will leave you to your bath,” Castiel said. His cheeks were red and he wouldn’t meet Dean’s eye as he shuffled his way to the door.

“What? Why–” Dean began to ask. Then he realized. To take a bath, you have to undress. At least, it’s better if you do. “Hey, no, you don’t have to leave. Just uh, turn around for a moment, okay?”

Castiel paused with his hand on the door knob. His back was already to Dean.

“Yeah, just stay there for a sec,” Dean said. His voice had gone a little wonky and his heart was beating faster. Maybe it would have been easier if Castiel had left, but he really, for some strange reason, did not want that to happen.

He stripped efficiently and laid his clothes on the bed, and paused. It was the first time he’d taken off his clothes since this whole thing had begun, and there, on his left bicep was an ugly, twisted shape of raised skin. Like a burn mark, only shaped unnaturally into the form of a snake. Dean fingered around it gingerly, trying to quash the terror beginning to boil inside. This must be the physical representation of the mark the evil bastard had put on him.

Castiel’s cough reminded him that he was in the middle of something. He shook his head and put thoughts of evil killing bastards to the side.

Carefully, he stepped into the bath. It was very, very hot, so he had to sink slowly into the water, letting his skin adjust as he went. Finally he was seated in the tub and sighed contentedly.

“Okay, you can turn around.”

He realized perfectly well that bath water was clear, but it was less weird if he was in the water right? Groups of men go down to the creek all the time to bathe, why should this be any weirder?

Castiel turned around and his gaze darted to Dean in the water, hovering briefly on the mark on Dean’s shoulder, before flittering quickly away and darting every which way around the room, as if he had no idea what to do with himself. He was flushed and awkward and palmed nervously at his neck.

Okay, so maybe not the same as the guys going down to the creek.

Castiel walked to the other side of the room, leaving his back to Dean and crossing his arms.

After a few awkward moments, Castiel said, voice gruff, “I do not like his mark on you like that.”

Dean snorted. “Me neither.”

There was silence after that, safe for the loud sounds of celebrating and partying coming from downstairs. Dean tried to relax and enjoy his bath, but it just wasn’t the kind of silence that was comfortable. It was weighted, and weird.

“Cas,” Dean said, his voice like gravel. But he had no idea how to continue that. “This shouldn’t be weird,” he finally said. “Why is this weird?”

Castiel cricked his neck to the side, but didn’t turn around to look at Dean. “I can think of a few reasons,” he finally said.

“Like?”

“Like how insanely attracted to you I find myself,” Castiel stated. “And I suspect you feel the same.”

There was silence for a long moment.

“Then why are we fighting it?”

Castiel turned around sharply, his pupil dilating. His arms uncrossed.

“This tub is big enough for two,” Dean said. He nearly had to swallow around his heart, it was pounding so forcefully in his chest.

Castiel did nothing but breathe deeply for a few moments, his eyes skimming over Dean in the water, looking at him like he was a buffet and Castiel hadn’t eaten in day. Still, he was fighting himself, and though Dean didn’t know why and Castiel seemed very, very interested in him, he was still concerned his offer was about to be turned down.

Then Castiel was sliding off his bow and quiver and the little bag of books, setting them by the bed. Dean stared unabashedly as Cas griped the bottom of his tunic and pulled it overhead. His trousers slid to the ground, and Dean nearly groaned at the sight of Castiel’s bare groin. He apparently didn’t wear undergarments.

He soaked in the view as Castiel walked to the tub, from the toned muscle of his arms to the freckle over Castiel’s right nipple, and lower, to the sharp hip bones that lead to a dusty patch of hair that surrounded Castiel’s cock. His mouth watered at the sight.

“I take it you like this body,” Castiel said with a smile in his voice as he slid into the opposite end of the bath, so gracefully he barely disturbed the water.

Dean swallowed, spreading his legs so Cas could sit between his feet. “You could say that.”

Castiel settled himself with his knees over Dean’s, his feet knocking at Dean’s hips. He threw his head back and moaned.

“I haven’t bathed in hot water in hundreds of years,” Castiel stated. Dean blinked several times.

“Sometimes I forget you’re not really human,” Dean said. His heart was doing a weird skitter pattern in his chest. He was falling for Castiel, and it was less than wise. They were of two different worlds. Could they ever truly have something?

He nearly jumped when Castiel’s fingers brushed his calf beneath the water. “I’m not fully human, that’s true. But I’m not an angel any more either and I never will be again, I am forever locked in my human form. I’m between worlds.” Both hands were now massaging just beneath Dean’s knee. “But I feel myself slipping further from grace, and one day I will be as human and mortal as you.”

Dean frowned. He wasn’t sure that solved his problem. Human and mortal meant capable of dying, and he certainly didn’t like that any better than Castiel being some foreign creature to him.

“You look unhappy,” Castiel ventured.

His fingers subconsciously mimicked Castiel’s, finding the calves so close to his side. He slid them down until he found a foot, picking one up and placing it on his chest. Castiel watched, amused and content, as Dean began to rub into the toughened, tired soles.

“I guess I just feel like you are way out of my league, Cas,” Dean finally confessed. “I’m a common thief, nothing special–”

Castiel sat up sharply, dislodging water in waves. Dean was surprised and startled as Castiel pulled himself forward and framed Dean’s face with his hands. “You are loving and thoughtful, self-sacrificing and brave. You are one of the most beautiful creatures I have ever met, and it is I who does not deserve you.”

“Cas–” Dean began, awed.

He was cut off as Castiel slammed his lips into Dean’s. His lips were dry, full and plush, and he kissed Dean like he hadn’t kissed anyone in a very long time, maybe ever. He kissed like he was dying for the contact, like he would break apart and never heal again if Dean had rejected him.

Dean understood the sentiment. He sort of felt the same way.

He worked his fingers into Castiel’s dark hair, holding his head, pulling him closer. Closer, closer, Castiel needed to be _closer_. Dean needed to feel every inch of him, to caress him and squeeze him and revel in the feel of his warm skin, and water sloshed everywhere as Dean tried to just. Get. Closer.

Castiel wasn’t helping anything, groaning and moving like he’d never been touched by loving hands before. If what he’d said earlier was true, he probably hadn’t. He responded to the simplest touches, arching into Dean at the drag of a hand through his hair, groaning when Dean attached his lips to Castiel’s neck and sucked.

Then Dean caressed his thumb below Castiel’s navel and he gasped and thrashed so hard that the tub, which could barely fit two grown men in the first place, tipped over.

Dean landed with a soft thud, his hip pressed into the porcelain, shoulder on the sopping wet wood floor, and all he could do was giggle like a school girl. He untangled himself enough from Castiel to stand and held out his hand to help Castiel up.

The laughter was contagious and Castiel pulled Dean on top of him and as they collapsed in the bed they were giggling in between kisses.

Dean adjusted his legs until he was properly straddling Cas and knelt up. Their erections stood hard and proud between them, making Dean drool at the sight. Carefully, with Castiel watching him with hooded eyes, he wrapped his hand around Castiel’s erection.

The effect was instantaneous, Castiel moaning and twisting on the sheets. Dean ran his thumb over the crown, pull down gently at the foreskin, and Castiel decided that was enough. He surged up, crashed his lips into Dean’s, and swiftly changed their positions.

There was a bang as the headboard slammed into the wall, the two lovers rolling without a concern in the world until Castiel was on top of Dean, straddling him, pelvic bone to pelvic bone. He wasted no time sucking a nipple into his mouth while thrusting down with his cock. Dean’s own rubbed alongside the silky hard flesh, pressed between their hot bodies, and he threw back his head and howled, burying his fingers tightly in Castiel’s hair.

“Mmm,” Castiel mumbled into his nipple, thrusting again. And again.

‘Ahhh, Jesus Cas,” Dean cursed, bending a leg to get leverage and thrust back up, into Cas.

It was fast and rough and messy, but it was satisfying and completing and beautiful and Dean felt nothing but wonderful things as he arched under Cas and came, his orgasm punched out of him as violently as the sex had been.

Castiel moved his suckling to Dean’s neck and slowed down his thrusts. He hadn’t come yet, and Dean was too exhausted to try to force him to move so he could do something about it. Castiel didn’t appear concerned though, and after a few moments of lapping below Dean’s ear, he sat up on his knees and took his cock in hand.

Slowly, teasingly, he rubbed his cock against Dean, using his grip to guide it, smearing it through puddles of Dean’s come. Dean could barely breathe with how intensely erotic it was. Who would have guessed he had a thing for come play?

Still, Castiel was chasing an orgasm, and he began using the come as a lube as he thrust into his hand.

Dean blinked up at him. Watching Castiel throw his head back and work himself into the heights of pleasure was probably the most beautiful and insanely hot thing Dean would ever see in his life.

“Cas,” Dean said, moving his hands to grip Castiel’s thighs. “Paint me, come on.”

Castiel came just as beautifully as he did everything else. His cheeks and chest were flushed, his neck also showing signs of the heat in his veins as he threw his head back, mouth dropped open, and did just what did had asked– painted his chest with streaks of come.

He collapsed over Dean, just barely catching himself with the hand not still wrapped around his cock. Castiel kissed Dean soundly, flickering just briefly with his tongue, before falling to Dean’s right and wrapping and arm tight around him. He breathed heavily into Dean’s ear, content in their wordless joy, letting their hearts calm down.

Dean had to take it all back. _This_ was his favorite part of that day.

~

“Oh. Oh god,” Kevin emphasized, rubbing the heels of his hands into his eyes. “Dude, I don’t need to know this stuff!”

Sam was frowning at him from across the campfire they had finished constructing just before Dean got to the good stuff. “Seriously Dean,” he said, like something tasted bad. “Ugh,” he added, looking away.

Charlie was grinning. “Nice,” was her assessment.

Dean felt like he was being rated here, which was totally not fair. They weren’t there. They couldn’t possibly know that sex with Castiel was _at least_ a 12/10.

But then again, he didn’t want them to ever truly know what it was like anyway.

Dean was getting lost in the memory when Charlie shook him back to reality, asking, “So you destroyed the room, what happened next?”

~

They awoke to banging at the bedroom door, followed by an angry innkeeper barging in and swatting Dean’s naked ass with a spoon.

“It is _raining_ in my storage room, you heathens!” she yelled. “Get out! Get out now!”

Dean and Castiel were trying to force some clothes on their bodies as fast as possible, tripping and falling, reaching for their things as they darted around the very mad woman, and, yep, that was definitely a lot of water on the floor.

Dean started giggling before they were even out the door. Once the adrenaline wore off, the absurdity of it all had hit, and he couldn’t help it, it was damn funny. He was laughing his ass off in the middle of the street while Castiel looked at him in amusement.

“I’m still not sure I understand everything you find funny,” Castiel said. “But I’m glad you’re amused.” Then he added, “We need to find another place to sleep for the night.”

That only made Dean laugh harder.

They walked the length of the town looking for another place to sleep, but Snow Bitten was a small town and they did not encounter another tavern or inn by the time they’d begun to reach the country side.

It was a beautiful night. The stars were bright overhead, and though the air was crisp and cool, it seemed to only make the sky bluer and the stars shinier. Dean took Castiel’s hand, and, without another word, they continued meandering in the night.

A farm house on the outskirts of town came into view, along with a quaint little barn. Dean quirked his eye at Cas, Castiel glanced from the barn to Dean, and nodded.

It was a very small barn, with one horse and lots of hay. The horse whinnied when they first entered, but Castiel let her sniff him and then scratched her behind the ears and whispered to her, and she was fine after that.

Dean took off his cloak and spread it on some bails, and Castiel took off his, crawled next to Dean and spread it over them like a blanket. The hay wasn’t as comfy as a feather bed could be, and without heat, it was chilly.

Then Castiel wrapped his arm around Dean and pulled him close, and the chill was quickly chased away in the warmth of Castiel’s body heat.

Dean was drifting off peacefully when Castiel nosed at his neck and said, “I’m glad you wandered into my hunting grounds four days ago, Dean.”

Castiel couldn’t see Dean’s smile, but Dean was confident he sensed it nonetheless as he squeezed the arm around his waist. “Me too,” Dean said. “And not just cause you saved my life and soul from scary, scaly demon beasts.”

There was chuckling next to Dean’s ear. He wanted to take it and bottle it so he could listen to that laugh forever and always.

~

“You just had to ruin the porn with sap,” Charlie stated, standing up from the ground, stretching her arms overhead.

Sam and Kevin’s faces were still twisted up with uncomfortableness.

Dean looked away from Charlie sharply. Her cynicism was starting to sting. Castiel had meant a lot to him, it had damn near killed him when Castiel had chosen to remain in hiding. He didn’t appreciate it being mocked like this.

“Oh,” Charlie said softly. “Dean, I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize…”

“S’okay,” Dean told her. “Get some sleep, I’ll continue in the morning. We should reach his camp by the end of the day.”

Charlie nodded. “Okay.”

~

Castiel woke Dean early and proposed that they borrow the horse. He would have suggested it earlier, but had not thought their journey would be so long. Dean had not suggested it earlier because horses were walking death traps of doom.

“You’re teasing me,” Castiel accused. “You can’t possibly be afraid of riding a horse.”

“Man was not meant to ride on four legged animals,” Dean said, nearly squeaking. He knew it was an irrational fear, that more people died from bear attacks than horse related deaths, but it was his fear nonetheless. He’d been thrown off one as a kid and nearly had his brains bashed in.

Or so he remember it.

Castiel was trying not to laugh. “Dean, riding a horse is perfectly safe. You put yourself at much greater risk every time you steal.”

“Yeah, and now you want me to steal a _fucking horse_ ,” Dean said.

Flapping his arms at his side, Castiel sighed. “I’ll hold you,” he said. That was certainly one way to sway Dean’s opinion. “This will get us to that murdering bastard a lot quicker. We may even be able to meet up with him in the next town.”

There was no way for Dean to argue with that without sounding like an asshole.

“Fine.” He sounded like a petulant child.

Castiel prepared the horse for riding while Dean stood off to the side eying the horse warily. When Castiel declared them ready and slid into the seat, Dean had to swallow down the urge to vomit and slid in front of him.

At least Castiel’s arms around his waist felt incredible.

“Oh,” Dean said softly as they started North. “With all the uh, excitement last night, I nearly forgot about that list.”

Castiel hummed quietly behind him. “I doubt we would have learned much, probably better to just get to him quicker.”

Dean agreed, so he tried to settle himself on the horse and resign himself to traveling like that for the rest of the day. Dean even admitted after a while that the horse wasn’t so awful, and having Castiel pressed into him made it all actually kind of nice.

“Nebula,” Castiel had told him. “Her name is Nebula.” He refused to tell Dean how he knew that.

They took a break at midday, despite the fact that Dean had no mid-day meal to share, so Dean could practice his sword work. He could hear Castiel’s stomach rumbling, nearly as loud as his own, but made no mention of it as they clashed steel.

It was becoming something sexual for Dean, the competition and the physical exertion and watching Castiel move. When Castiel had declared enough practice for the day, Dean dropped his sword, pushed Castiel to the ground, freed him from his britches and there, spread out in the grass and less than 10 yards from the road, swallowed his cock.

Castiel thrashed with pleasure, his hands wrapping around Dean’s head, keeping him close. He didn’t force Dean to move, but the way his hips jerked and his fingers tensed, Dean could tell it was a close call.

Going down on a man was something Dean had never done before, but he learned quickly he loved the heat of Castiel’s cock in his mouth, the silky slide of the rigid flesh. Experimentally, as Castiel became fully erect and his foreskin fully retracted, Dean tongued at the slit. Castiel moaned and thrashed, pushing at Dean’s shoulder to pull him off.

He was panting hard. “Too much,” was all Castiel could get out. “Just…” he thunked his head in the grass. “Give me a moment.”

Oh fuck. It was so hot. Dean couldn’t take it anymore. He took his own cock out and gave it a few strokes.

“Mmm,” Castiel mumbled from the grass, turning to look at Dean’s motions. “C’mere.”

Dean wasn’t sure what Castiel had in mind, but he wasn’t about to argue. He followed Castiel’s guiding hands until he was at Castiel’s head.

“Straddle me, Dean,” Castiel told him, his blue eyes alit so strongly that Dean was still surprised they were blue.

He couldn’t believe he hadn’t come yet. Just on principle.

Dean turned so he was facing Castiel’s feet, planted his knees in the ground and leant forward, adjusting his position until his cock dangling just above Castiel’s lips. Castiel’s hands came up and gripped his butt cheeks, lowering Dean into his mouth.

Castiel couldn’t move much, so he used his grip to urge Dean into thrusting gently into his mouth. Dean whimpered with how good it was, and it wasn’t long before he was thrusting gently of his own accord, wondering if he would die if Castiel had stopped him.

The world came into focus just long enough for him to realize that he was moaning just above Castiel’s straining cock. And if he lowered himself just enough, he could…

Castiel jerked, or at least tried to, when Dean’s lips met his cock again. His fingers dug into Dean’s butt cheeks, trying to ground himself, and, if the wiggles and needy little jerks were anything to go by, wasn’t succeeding.

He turned his head to the side, letting Dean’s cock smear across his cheek, to give Dean the warning.

“Dean,” he said, voice horse and low, “I’m, I’m going to–”

Dean had no intention of breaking off. Castiel stopped mid-sentence, his body going as tight as his bow, and his come releasing as fast as an arrow. Dean swallowed it all, using his tongue and cheeks to suck it out of him, trying to get more when Castiel had no more to give. Castiel whimpered and tried to pull his cock away. He was too sensitive.

The feeling of lips wrapping around his cock and sucking hard pulled Dean out of his worship around Castiel’s own length. He pulled off with a shout. Castiel’s hands urged him to thrust faster, thrust deeper, into his mouth, so he stopped holding back. He raised himself back up onto his hands for better leverage and pushed his cock deep into Castiel’s throat.

It didn’t take many of those thrusts for him to explode, throwing his head back and crying out a silent scream.  Castiel was still licking at him when he came back to reality, and he was becoming overstimulated himself.

He rolled off Castiel and collapsed on the ground.

Eventually, Castiel propped himself up on his elbow, and said with a hoarse voice, “I take it that from now own, crossing swords will mean more than one thing?”

Dean clutched his stomach laughed. “At least we had lunch.”

~

“Oh, come on!” Kevin screeched.

Dean shrugged.

Charlie smirked.

“I hope you know that when I retell this epic tale, I will be leaving the porn out,” Kevin stated.

Charlie laughed. “You’ll have a bigger audience if you leave it in.”

~

They reached the next town, Sleet Root, much earlier in the day than they had the previous ones, but a few quick questions revealed their nemesis had already moved on.

“Damn it,” Dean cursed. “We are never going to catch up to him, are we?”

“He has to take a break at some point,” Castiel said. “Besides, I think I know where he’s going.”

“Oh?”

“There’s only two paths to take up ahead,” Castiel explained. “One eventually tapers off to nothing, and the other heads to the capitol. I think we can cut him off, strike through the forest and stop him outside of Ice Leaf, the town just before the capitol.”

Dean wasn’t so sure. This part of the great forest was treacherous at best. “You think you can navigate the forest?” Dean asked. The look Castiel gave him was so condescending that Dean immediately felt stupid for asking. “Right, my bad.”

Their debate, in the middle of the streets of Sleet Root was cut off by a beast barreling straight for Dean. Castiel quirked an eye, took out his bow, and shot it down with ease. But there was only the one.

“You don’t think that means…”

“I think we need to head to the forest edge,” Castiel supplied.

There she was, mouth open in screams that weren’t coming out, as several beasts pulled her away from the town.

“He’s been using a silencing charm,” Castiel mumbled to himself. “I should have thought of that sooner.”

“Damn it, Cas, draw your bow!” Dean ordered, his sword already drawn and charging forward.

His charge was answered by a dive from an owl that Dean recognized immediately. Norbert pulled off one of the beasts while Dean plunged in.

Several arrows went flying around Dean in quick succession, and Dean watched, impressed and a little horrified, as they imbedded themselves straight into the beasts, missing both Dean and the woman herself by inches. He continued to fire while Dean raised the sword and stabbed at one, pushing it off her.

All in all, Dean took out two while Castiel had managed six. The woman had even managed to punch the last one in the face before Castiel shot it. But Dean wasn’t bothered by that score count, Castiel was scary quick with that bow.

“Are you okay?” Dean asked, leaning next to the blonde haired girl. She had collapsed once they’d gotten all of the demons off her. She was hunched over and shaking. “I’m so sorry we didn’t get here sooner,” Dean said.

The sun was blocked off above him as Castiel furled in cloak and laid it over her shoulders.

“Can you tell me your name?” Dean asked gently.

The woman looked up and Dean realized she was younger than he thought, with pretty blonde hair and soft green eyes. They were Dean’s eyes, nearly identical. It was one of the strangest feelings, like he was staring into a mirror of himself, only with the delicate features and angles of a woman.

Those delicate features were twisted, not with fear, but anger. She was still shaking, but Dean was beginning to suspect a different source than pure terror.

“It’s Jo Anna,” the girl said, nearly spitting it out. “God, I can’t believe this! How dare they attack me like that!” She pulled the cloak tighter. “Why, why did they attack me?”

“They were set on you by a very confused, very evil sorcerer,” Castiel explained, kneeling down to join them. “But they are gone now and I don’t think they’ll be back. Can we help you home?”

She nodded and they moved to help her stand, but she pushed them away. Prideful. She probably hated that she’d needed help at all. She really could have been Dean’s little sister if he didn’t know any better.

She directed them to a tavern called The Roadhouse. Which was curious until, after walking in, a woman with brown hair and a stern face was upon them immediately, demanding to know what had happened. Jo Anna was scratched up afterall, it looked like they had assaulted her.

Jo Anna was quick to hold up a hand and stop her. “Mom,” she said. “They saved me. From some damned winged beast demon things.”

Her eyes went wide. “Demons?” she asked. Castiel nodded. When he went on to further explain that they had been intent on sucking her soul out through her eyes, simply because there’s a crazy sorcerer that had set them on her, the woman took Jo Anna into her arms and offered Dean and Cas whatever they’d like for a drink.                                                                                                            

“Name’s Ellen,” she said. “This is my establishment, and for as long as you’d like, you have a bed, food, and drink here.”

Dean and Cas exchanged a look. They’d been planning on moving on, but they could turn down the offer and not seem rude. So they stayed for a drink, and when people started to show up for the evening rush, they had a meal and more drinks.

A gruff man with a ragged beard showed up early in the evening and he was even more protective of Jo Anna than Ellen had been. He looked her over sternly, disapproving of the scratches and marks. Dean couldn’t hear what was being said, but he and Ellen exchanged some words before he was storming over to Dean and Castiel.

“You saved my Jo Anna?” he asked, sizing them up. They nodded. “You look more like trouble makers than heroes.”

Dean grinned. “I can be both.” Castiel was nodding next to him, the traitor.

He barked a laugh, but immediately became serious and distrustful yet again. “I’m keeping my eye on you,” he said. “Don’t you dare try anything with Jo Anna.”

Dean’s eyes went wide as he tried not to laugh. He was sort of spoken for at the moment and Jo Anna was nothing like what he wanted. Sort of missing the right bits.

“Bobby!” Ellen called. “Sugar. Storage. Now.”

Once he was gone, Dean finally let his chuckle out. He turned to Cas, expecting him to be equally amused, but he was tiling his head and looking at Dean closely, his fingers playing over the condensation on his mug.

“I’m holding you back,” he stated. “You’d likely prefer her–”

“Dude,” Dean said, cutting him off. “You’re not serious, are you?” He was hoping Castiel would laugh at his own tease, but two blue eyes blinked at him slowly. “Cas. I want _you_.”

“But there are many things I can’t give you–”

“Cas,” Dean said sternly. “I don’t care. I want you.” Dean kissed him gently. “Just you.” Castiel melted into the kiss while Jo Anna cooed at them from a few feet away.

“We saved a room for you,” she said with a wink. “Room 2. One bed.” As she turned away to wipe down the bar, she added, “I had a hunch.”

Dean blinked a few times. “You’re awesome Jo,” he said.

“I know.”

The room was nice, deep reds and decorative, carved wood accessories and furniture. The bed was plush and huge. It was a little like Castiel’s cabin, only with more touches and attention to detail.

They crawled into the bed, exchanging lazy kisses and got each other off by hand with unrushed touches, falling asleep in a tangle of limbs.

When they awoke in the morning, Dean’s sixth sense for coin pulled his eye to a bag of money on the dresser. There was a small note placed next to it. He slide out of bed and opened it.

_You’re a bunch of idjits, but you’ve earned this._

Below that, in a different, more delicate handwriting someone had added,

_Ignore the grump. You’re welcome here any time._

The tavern was empty, or, at least, they couldn’t find anyone on their way out. Dean had a hunch they had all left because they suspected that Dean and Castiel would have refused taking so much money from them. They were right.

He sighed and opened up the pouch. It was far, far too much. He moved to dump it on the bar, where they would hopefully find it right away, when Castiel’s hand stilled him.

“We may need that coin,” Castiel said lightly, like he didn’t like saying it. “Hopefully we won’t, and then we can return it to them on the way home.”

It was funny how he was okay with stealing from rich jerks, but felt weird about the gift. The little group was like family, had been kind and welcoming, told a few good jokes last night, and they’d earned that coin. He hadn’t.

But he saw Castiel’s point, so he pocketed the money, and they headed out for Nebula, whom they had left at the local inn’s stables shortly after arriving in Sleet Root. Dean grabbed a few days’ worth of trail rations, two bedrolls, and then they struck out for the forest, and the quickest path to Ice Leaf. Castiel assured him that’s all they would need.

Dean waited until they were on their way to Ice Leaf, picking their way through the forest, before he brought up something that was beginning to weigh on his mind.

“Jo Anna,” Dean started, “she had my eyes.”

Castiel, who had been resting his chin on Dean’s shoulder, went still.

“She had my eyes, and blonde hair. And I couldn’t see the eyes of the other victims, but the ones we’d met, they all had blonde hair. Just like mine,” Dean said slowly. “It’s really rare, to have green eyes and blonde hair. Now, maybe I’m making it up, I’m purely guessing on the eyes here, but something tells me I’m not wrong, and something tells me you know it.”

Castiel sat up, his weight no longer resting on Dean. He was silent for a few moments before he sighed and said, “I was hoping you wouldn’t notice. I should have known better.”

“What is it?” Dean asked, his stomach starting to twist.

“It _is_ a rare trait,” Castiel said. “And it’s one that an ancient king once had.”

Whatever Dean had been expecting, that wasn’t it.

“What?”

“Several hundred years ago, King Phillip and his wife Caroline both had blonde hair and green eyes. All of their offspring did too. When they were overthrown, the usurper had all of their children and heirs hunt down and killed,” Castiel explained. His voice was carefully neutral.

“And you know this, how?”

Castiel was silent for a moment before responding. “I had been in the King’s army.”

Pieces began to fall into place. Like why Castiel had locked himself away. He had said he’d failed his king. He didn’t say how it had happened. Dean was beginning to regret prying, but. Well, he needed to know.

“So this guy, he thinks all of us with green eyes and blonde hair are trying to overthrow the king?” Dean asked, incredulous.

“Essentially, yes,” Castiel responded. “Though they probably aren’t as worried about an outright attack as they are about future, potential ones.”

“Well that’s just peachy,” Dean responded. Castiel hummed his agreement. “Why didn’t you just tell me?”

“I didn’t want to scare you,” Castiel explained. Dean snorted. “And I wasn’t entirely certain that was the pattern until we saved Jo Anna.”

Dean nodded. That made sense. In the way that crazy killing warlocks could ever make sense.

They made good time in the forest, but Castiel was distant for most of it. Eventually he resumed his earlier position, resting his chin on Dean’s shoulder. He wrapped a hand around Dean’s bicep, right around the mark the evil bastard had put there, and squeezed like he wanted to burn the mark out.

When the sun was getting low, Castiel told Dean to keep riding North, he was going to hunt some game for dinner. Dean hated riding the fucking beast of doom by himself, but he was able to handle the momentary panic by humming his favorite tune to himself and consistently repeating in his head that dinner was on the way.

Castiel returned with two rabbits, making Dean’s mouth water.

They broke for camp, Castiel building them a fire and teaching Dean how to do it properly. He was, as always, a great teacher, but the lesson probably could have been faster. The second he had wrapped his hands around Dean’s to show him how to move the sticks, Dean couldn’t help himself and was kissing Castiel senseless and trying to find a new way to keep warm.

Norbert joined them once the camp was setup. The feather brain was starting to grow on Dean. He landed on Dean’s shoulder and shuffled his feathers, hunkering in. He apparently wanted to share the firelight with them.

Castiel smiled at the sight.

“I wish I could befriend all the animals,” Castiel said. “But I don’t have the patience for it.”

“You’ve had all the time in the world,” Dean responded, surprised.

“True,” Castiel said. “I really should have learned to speak rabbit by now. It’s hard when you eat most of the ones you meet.”

Dean couldn’t tell if Castiel was fucking with him or not, but regardless, he had a point. You should never befriend your food.

They finished eating and Castiel laid down next to Dean, wrapping him in his arms. As they had done with the cloaks, the bedrolls served as both a base and a blanket for them to share. Dean was already getting used to sharing his bed every night with the beautiful archer.

And when Castiel worked a hand under his britches and brought them both to completion, rocking gently against Dean’s backside, he decided he could definitely get used to having this every night.

They left the next day before the sun rose, a certain anxiety settling in as they came closer and closer to finally facing Dean’s attacker. It didn’t escape Dean that this man had not only been trying to kill him, but had, in fact, succeeded in killing several other people. He was evil and needed to be stopped.

The sun was just past mid-day when Dean and Castiel first broke the forest edge, just outside of Ice Leaf. They headed for The Royal Road outside of town and then followed it, back the way they would have come if they had taken it into town, heading south east. They stopped when they found a patch of road that seemed far enough away from the city to not be accidentally happened upon by someone out for the day. They left Nebula by the forest edge, far away from any fighting that would be happening and out of harm’s way.

Anxious for his nemesis to arrive, Dean couldn’t stop pacing the road. The sound of a blade being drawn distracted him.

“Practice?” Castiel asked grimly.

They didn’t practice hard, not wanting to wear themselves out in case they would need the energy. Castiel insisted there was no way the douchebag had passed them up, but there was no telling how long they could be waiting for him to pass this way.

It would turn out, however, that they wouldn’t have to wait long.

Dean spotted movement out of the corner of his eye. He turned to meet the man while Castiel switched the blade for his bow.

It was a good thing Dean had great peripheral vision or they would have been the ones surprised. As it was, the man came into view and his eyes rose with surprise as he took in Dean, standing confidently in the middle of the road, with an archer at his side.

“Well, well,” the man said, his voice a raspy sound, almost a hiss. “Isn’t this a surprise. It’s not often my prey come find me.”

“I’m not prey,” Dean said, raising his chin. “I’ve fought off your minions so far, haven’t I?”

The man, clad in all black with eyes that were nearly yellow, smiled. It gave Dean the creeps.

“Yes, well, the Hellbeasts are vicious, but not too bright,” the man said. “I seem to have underestimated you…?”

“Dean,” Dean supplied. “Dean Winchester, you piece of shit.”

“Well now, there’s no need to be rude, Dean,” the man said. He smile was crude and condescending.

And Dean disagreed with his assessment.

So did Castiel.

“You’ve been killing people in every town,” Castiel said. “If dealing with a cowardly, Hellbeast summoning, insane killer isn’t the time to be rude, I don’t know when is.”

The man’s smile slipped a little as his eyes wondered over Castiel. “And you are…?”

“Castiel,” Castiel answered. “and we are here to put an end to your murderous ways. May I have a name to put on the obituary announcements?”

Dean was trying not to chuckle, but he was failing. Castiel was pretty badass sometimes and Dean thought he might be a little in love with him.

Evil douchebag was no longer smiling. “When I leave you blind and maimed, you may tell everyone to fear and obey Azazel.” There was pride in his voice, but Dean had never heard his name. Dean rolled his eyes.

Castiel though, he was nodding to himself. “You are Second Mage in the king’s army,” Castiel said, shocking the shit out of Dean. Knowing past events was one thing. Knowing current ones either meant Castiel had been a good listener on this trip, or had made it to town more often than he let on.

“Second, huh?” Dean asked. “Too bad, I was hoping for a good fight.”

Azazel sneered. “I think it’s time for you to die.”

“Funny,” Dean said. “I was going to say the same thing.”

Dean adopted the stance Castiel had showed him, readying his sword. Beside him, Castiel prepared his bow. Azazel lifted the corner of his lips and said something so low that Dean couldn’t hear it. Castiel could, however, and he grimaced.

“Be prepared,” he said.

Well. Yeah.

It was a testament to how much he was getting used to all this weird crap when at least a dozen of those winged beasts things popped into existence, and he was barely phased. They were a swarm around Azazel as they appeared, then dove straight for Dean.

“Keep them off me!” Dean shouted as he plunged through the mass of ugly, scaly winged terrors. It was Azazel he was after. Take off the head of the serpent and the rest of the snake will go with it. Something like that.

Winged beasts dived for him, swarming him, but Dean heard the arrows flying and had complete faith that Castiel could take out the ones that were getting too close, without hurting Dean. If Dean had learned anything in his time with the man, it was that he was the best archer in all of the land.

It probably had something to do with his having centuries of practice, not to mention literally having been made to shoot a bow. Sure, he was meant to do something quite different with it from killing beast things, but it was clear the skills translated.

Dimly, Dean heard a familiar caw and knew that Norbert had found them and would help Castiel by pulling the beasts off of him. So maybe the owl wasn’t so bad at all.

Azazel’s eyes grew wide as Dean managed to push through the army he’d attempted to raise. Realizing he was going to have to fight Dean directly, he drew his sword, speaking under his breath. More beasts appeared, but Dean knew Castiel had it covered. As long as his quiver lasted, and it carried a lot of arrows. Plus, he’d watched Castiel roll around and make shots while simultaneously collecting arrows. The beasts were no threat.

The man with the yellow eyes _was_ a little intimidating though.

There were wings and claws in Dean’s vision, but as he raised his sword and brought it down to Azazel, he didn’t even see them. He was focused on taking out the evil that stood in front of him.

For a sorcerer, he was pretty skilled with a sword. It didn’t help that Dean didn’t actually have that much practice. Azazel was pushing him back, testing his limits, and he wasn’t sure he could actually win this fight.

A young man came upon them while they were fighting. Dean didn’t get a good look, as he was fighting, but he was pretty sure the kid was from a foreign sea, with dark hair and dark eyes. Castiel shouted at him to go, and he fled.

~

Kevin was nodding, and Charlie was staring at him with her mouth hanging open. She nearly caught a branch to the head, she was so distracted.

“I had my suspicions, when I saw Cas firing that wickedly cool bow,” he said. “It took me months to track you down, Dean. Imagine my dismay when you insisted this guy was just a normal friend who happened to be helping you that day.”

“Dude!” Charlie exclaimed. “You met him?”

Kevin ducked below a branch before answering. “I’m not sure him yelling two words at me while I was facing blind terror counts as meeting him, but yeah.”

Sam turned around and gave Kevin a disapproving look. His lips were thin but he said nothing.

“So what happened after I fled?”

~

Dean was struggling, Azazel was winning. The clash of swords was wearing Dean thin, trying to keep up with an older and crazier fighter. He was nearly certain he was going to die when an arrow peeled just past Dean’s neck and landed in Azazel’s chest, in his shoulder, just above his breast bone.

He howled with the pain, and Dean, an expert at taking advantage of a situation, sunk his blade into Azazel’s stomach. It went in like a knife through butter.

Dean pulled the blade out, preparing to make another attack when one more arrow flew by Dean’s ear and imbedded itself in Azazel’s eye. Dean turned from the blood splatter, cringing at the horror, so he nearly missed it as Azazel let out a final cry before his entire being simply went poof out of existence. A disturbingly familiar display.

He was gone. Everything was gone, except for a lot of arrows laying on the ground, and a massive owl circling overhead. She cooed once, landing gently on Castiel’s shoulder.

Dean took a few deep breaths before he turned to Cas and shouted, “What the hell?!”

Castiel jogged the distance between them, looking over Dean, checking his cuts and wounds.

“There was very little humanity left in that man,” Castiel said as he examined. “I’m not surprised he died like a beast instead of a human.”

Dean looked around again, but there was simply nothing there. It didn’t sit right on his stomach, but he wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth. “I guess it does simplify things.”

“Come on,” Castiel said, retrieving his arrows. “We should clean those wounds, then we can start our journey back south.”

First, however, they went North. Norbert took off as they approached Ice Leaf, where they paid for a room in the local inn and a spot at the stables for Nebula. Castiel also stopped at an apothecary and picked up some supplies before they settled in to the room.

He had Dean strip off his shirt, and they both frowned at the presence of the mark, still ugly as fuck and sitting squarely on Dean’s bicep.

Castiel bit his lip, touching the mark gently. “It’s inert,” Castiel said. “But the mark is permanent.” He rubbed hard at the skin. “That bastard.”

“Hey,” Dean said, bringing up his hand to stop Castiel from rubbing his skin raw. “If this is all I have to deal with after inviting the wrath of a regicide-wannabe, I’ll take it.”

Nodding, Castiel finally looked away from the mark and resumed tending to Dean’s wounds. They were mostly scratches from the demon beasts, and Dean thought he was being a little overly cautious and more than gratuitous in the way he rubbed salve into the marks, treating each one like a personal offense, but Dean wasn’t about to complain. Like anyone else was ever going to show him this much attention and care.

When Castiel was done, his eyes and fingers found their way back to the mark, his lips turned down as he traced the edges of it in the flickers lamp light.

“Cas,” Dean said softly. “This is nothing when I should be dead. I would be dead, if it wasn’t for you.”

Castiel’s eyes snapped to his quickly, his entire demeanor changing, body melting. He surged into Dean, kissing him hard, like he was trying to kiss away any notion that Dean could ever die.

Dean was slowly pressed into the bed, Castiel laying on top of him, kissing him deeply and unhurriedly, savoring every moment. His hands brushed Dean’s arms and chest while Dean slid his hands across Castiel’s back, cupping his butt cheeks gently. Castiel moaned appreciatively and thrust gently down into Dean who broke their kiss with a gasp.

“I will never be able to get enough of you,” Dean whispered into Castiel’s lips, pulling him close again, their pelvises grinding.

“Dean,” Castiel said roughly, apparently in agreement. He sat up and removed his tunic, and Dean shivered at the thought of his bare chest pressed to Dean’s, but he had other ideas too. Dean reached for Castiel’s britches, undoing the ties and sliding the cloth down Castiel’s toned thighs.

More than onboard with Dean’s plan, Castiel stood and pulled the garments off the rest of the way before bending over to help Dean remove his, which he’d already gotten halfway down his hips.

Both as naked as was humanly possible, Castiel crawled back over Dean, laying down gently onto him and he pressed their lips back together, drawing out little mewling sounds from Dean with his tongue. Sounds Dean had never heard himself make before Castiel.

Dean urged Castiel’s hips with his hands, their erections sliding hard and deliciously between them while their tongues mimicked the dance and Castiel’s hand palmed at Dean’s head. His other hand caressed over Dean’s collar bone. Dean had no idea such a seemingly chaste gesture could light him up so brightly.

Then Castiel’s cock slipped, rubbing in the crook between Dean’s balls and his thigh, and Dean gasped, breaking the kiss. He shifted, angling to let Castiel continue.

“Mmm,” Castiel mumbled into his shoulder. He worked a hand between them, giving a brief squeeze to Dean’s cock before sliding lower, cupping his sac.

Dean was panting hard now, his blood beginning to sing. He grasped the sheets now instead of Castiel’s backside, needing to ground himself as Castiel continue to explore.

His exploration meant his cock was no longer grinding against Dean, but as a finger ghosted over the puckered flesh of his most intimate spot, Dean found there was little room for anything else in his mind but the words, “Oh holy fuck.”

In fact, Dean gasped it out loud. Something he didn’t really know he had done until Castiel chuckled into his shoulder, throaty and beautiful. “Not anymore.”

Given that there was little blood left in his head, Dean really couldn’t be blamed for the moment it took him to get the joke. Then he joined Castiel with a bark of laughter.

When he calmed down enough, Castiel kissed him again and said, “I’d like to try something.” His finger was still ghosting over Dean’s hole. “Do you trust me, Dean?”

Dean’s answer was a lopsided, fond smile. “I thought that was obvious.”

Castiel smiled back, pleased with the answer. He gave Dean another quick peck before getting up and moving to the bedside table. He blew out the only lamp, bathing them in nothing but the moonlight. Carefully, he removed the top of the lamp and poured some oil into his hand, returning to his position between Dean’s legs.

Dean was watching with fascination. He had a pretty good idea what Castiel had in mind, and instead of an anxiety or nerves, his body was tingling with anticipation.

Sure enough, the feeling of a slippery finger moving across that intimate spot felt even more incredible than the dry one. And when the barest tip of Castiel’s finger entered his body, he gasped and trembled.

“Okay?” Castiel asked, his ministrations paused.

“Oh yeah,” Dean responded without hesitation. He wiggled his hips, testing the sensation. “Yeah, we’re more than okay. Keep going, Cas.”

“You tell me if anything–”

“I will,” Dean promised him quickly. He was getting impatient.

“Hmm,” Castiel said, a silent comment on the impatience. As he pressed his lips gently into Dean’s and gradually moved his finger deeper, Dean wondered when they’d gotten to the point that he could read Castiel’s silent body language so well.

He couldn’t say he’d ever experienced what Castiel was doing to him right then, but he also couldn’t say he’d never thought about it. The feeling of Castiel’s finger pressing into him was strange, yet satisfying in some way he couldn’t describe. His toes were curling, his fingers were clenching, and Castiel was nosing just behind his ear, making it hard to focus.

“You should relax,” Castiel said encouragingly. “I want to make you feel good, very good.”

That was the strange thing. He didn’t even realize how tense he was until Castiel commented on it. Taking a deep breath and letting it out, Dean tried to relax, easing his muscles, letting his toes uncurl and unclenching his fingers from the sheets. Castiel’s own digits seemed to slide deeper.

Dean moaned appreciatively.

His hands freed from their grip, he brought one up and plunged his fingers into Castiel’s hair, holding his head close as Castiel began placing gently kisses on his neck and chest, moving his finger slowly in and out.

“I’m going to add another,” Castiel warned him. Dean nodded, felt the pressure and then the slide. He tried not to tense again, and mostly succeeded. He was panting though, and when Castiel slid over that spot he’d only heard of in tales from the rowdiest taverns, he arched with a gasp.

Castiel froze.

“No,” Dean managed to get out, “S’good. So good.”

Castiel must have accepted his assurances, because he pulled out his fingers and thrust them back in gently, rubbing the spot again.

“Yesss,” Dean said, moving his hips into Castiel’s hand. “Yes, just like that.”

Castiel sat up, looking down at where his hand entered Dean’s body, raking his eyes over Dean’s softening (but not for lack of excitement) cock and his heaving chest before landing on his eyes, and staring into them as if they were actually the best part.

“You’re incredible,” Castiel told him. “I wish–” he began, but cut himself off. He shook his head gently and didn’t continue.

Eventually he added a third finger, unhurriedly thrusting into Dean, not rushing, but not without passion. Castiel’s own chest was heaving now and his face was flushed. Dean could feel Castiel’s cock on his thigh, leaking pre-come.

By the time Castiel had added a fourth, Dean honestly didn’t know if he was going to explode or scream. “Please,” he panted, his fingers sinking into Castiel’s shoulder. “Oh god, please.”

“Are you sure?” Castiel asked, correctly translating his murmurs. “If I hurt you–”

“Cas,” Dean said as sternly as he could with lust blowing his vocal chords to hell, “Today I killed a mostly demonic warlock intent on killing me. Fuck me, Cas,” he said assuredly. “Oh god, _please_ , _fuck me_.”

Castiel bent over and bit Dean’s shoulder as he groaned. “Was the begging necessary?” he asked.

Dean smirked and tapped Castiel’s side playfully with his knee. “I don’t know, you’re still not balls deep inside of me, so you tell me.”

Castiel cursed in a language Dean didn’t know before finally sitting up and rubbing his oil slicked hand on his own cock, and pressing the head gently into Dean’s well prepared body.

The slow slide in was strange, but un-fucking-believable. He was shaking with pleasure and anticipation and could barely meet Castiel’s lips when he leaned in for a kiss.

“I–” Castiel began, swallowing hard. “Dean, I–”

“Shhh,” Dean said, pressing a finger to Castiel’s lip. “I know.”

When Castiel finally began thrusting, he started slow and unhurried, deep and intimate, until Dean could damn near feel tears crowding in his eyes, unshed with the overwhelming emotion and sensations rolling inside of him. He held Castiel close, or rather, tried, as Castiel’s back was slick with sweat and his hands kept sliding.

“I know,” Dean restated, turning his head to kiss Castiel’s neck. _Me too_ , he thought.

The thrusts got deeper before they became faster and Dean felt like Castiel’s cock was all there was in the whole damn universe. Then the archer got creative and used a hand to push Dean’s leg up, spreading him wider and changing the angle _just so_.

Dean threw his head back and cursed.

“Casss,” he said, working a hand between them, now that there was a little room, and gripped his erection.

Castiel watched the motion with hooded eyes, somehow looking even more aroused. He thrusted even harder, deeper, the bed clanking against the wall, Dean moaning like a whore as he thrashed and tugged hard on his cock.

“Come, Dean,” Castiel ordered.

Oh man, being ordered to orgasm? Who knew that was a kink? Dean certainly didn’t, not until Castiel commanded him in a gravelly tone, winded but confident. He gripped himself tight as he shot off, come shooting so hard that the stripes were landing not only on his chest, but on the pillows by his head.

He was just coming back to reality when he realized Castiel was thrusting lazily into him.

“Did you–” he started to ask. Castiel shook his head.

“Was watching you,” Castiel told him.

Dean blinked. “That’s all kinds of hot,” Dean told him.

“Yes,” Castiel agreed, “It was.”

He slammed his lips into Dean’s, still keeping his leg up with a hand, which was now on his ankle, and went from lazy thrusts to drilling Dean raw in the blink of an eye.

Dean gasped and desperately wished it were possible for him to come again so soon. Castiel was a man possessed, and it was beautiful and hot and intense all at once.

“C’mon,” Dean encouraged, wrapping his free foot behind Castiel’s thigh, urging him faster. “It’s your turn, big boy.”

Castiel didn’t need much encouragement. He’d been close when Dean had come, that’s part of why Dean was surprised he hadn’t come when Dean had. Stopping so he could focus on Dean’s orgasm… well that would be masturbation material for years to come.

If he ever _needed_ to masturbate again.

Castiel had surely left a bruise in Dean’s ankle before he finally sunk his teeth into Dean’s shoulder and whimpered as he came. Dean could feel him pulsing, convulsing gently against him, before he went boneless, barely catching himself from crushing Dean with his free arm.

He finally let Dean’s leg down and Dean winced. There was a pain in his thigh from the stretch.

As Castiel slid out of his body carefully, he winced again. His thigh wasn’t going to be the only thing hurting.

Castiel pulled him close, ignoring the come on Dean’s stomach, and fell asleep with his head buried in Dean’s neck. Dean joined him in sleep moments later.

The next morning, they set off for home, taking The Royal Road south this time. They weren’t in a rush now; if anything, they were trying to go slower, savor their time together. Dean was going to ask Castiel to move to the human world, maybe take up adventuring with him, go on quests, hunting monsters and saving people, but he didn’t know how Castiel was going to react.

When they passed the place they had stolen Nebula from, Castiel wrote a quick note that said, “thanks for the horse,” and placed enough coin to pay for two horses on top of the note on their doorstep. He shrugged at Dean and said he just couldn’t leave her.

Given that Norbert still occasionally flew overhead, Dean supposed that once Castiel made a bond with an animal, he had a hard time letting go.

They also stopped by The Roadhouse and stayed there for a full day. Dean tried to give them the money back, what little they had not spent, but it was soundly refused, and Ellen threatened him so soundly with a beating if he even tried to sneak some in a coffee tin before they left, that he figured he was stuck with keeping it. Something to finally buy Sam his pastry with, anyway.

Castiel kept him up on his sword work, training him every day, but it did normally end in other, more pleasurable physical activity. Which they also got up to every night, after they’d had a filling, good meal, and after which they’d pass out and sleep heavily, wrapped up tight in each other.

In fact, by the time they were approaching Droplet Falls, Castiel was eating and sleeping almost as much as Dean was. It made Dean a little uneasy.

It wasn’t until they were in Rain Puddle, one town out from home, before Dean managed to broach the subject of Castiel’s arrangements.

They were sitting in the tavern, the same as before, eating lamb and drinking ale, and Castiel’s eyes glowed brightly in the firelight. They were the most beautiful shade of blue. Dean would never tire of staring into them.

Without thinking, his hand was on Castiel’s.

“You should stay with me,” Dean said. “Sam and I, we move around a lot, I don’t know how much longer we’ll be here, but. But if you wanted, if you’d come with me…”

Castiel’s fork stilled halfway to his mouth. He set it down carefully. “Dean,” was all he said, but the tone was regretful and Dean’s stomach clenched.

“Seriously?!” Dean asked incredulously. “Dude, I know you have a hang up about your past or something, but it’s time to put that aside, move on.” Maybe he just didn’t want to move on with Dean. He shook his head, that couldn’t be it. Could it? “I thought I meant something to you.”

Castiel looked physically pained, which is all Dean was feeling, so he figured that was fair.

“You mean everything to me, Dean,” Castiel said, and sounded like he meant it. “That’s why I have to go back to my old life. So you can grow up, make your way.” Dean was opening his mouth to call him on his shit when Castiel continued. “I’m just not meant for this world any more, Dean,” Castiel said. “And the world isn’t meant to have The Grace Archer. That kid that wandered into our battle will likely go tell stories about what he saw. I can only hope they stop as stories. People get strange when there’s power like mine around.”

Dean was physically sick, his stomach twisting. “This is it.”

“We have tonight?” Castiel supplied. His eyes were wide and pinched, hopeful and yet sad. He looked like he was breaking as much as Dean felt like his heart was being crushed. It wasn’t fair.

“I don’t think I can, Cas,” Dean said. His stomach was in knots and his throat was thick. There was no way he was up for ‘making love’ after this. He just had to open his mouth and ruin the night. At least if he’d waited, they could have had one more evening together.

Dean stood and pushed his chair carefully back in place. “I think I should go.”

“Dean–”

“S’alright. I can get back from here,” Dean said as he began to walk away, stumbling once, like he was drunk.

“Dean, please–” Castiel called to his back.

“I get it, Cas,” Dean said, not turning around. His voice was rough, like he’d cried for four nights. But he hadn’t done that part yet, had he? “You take care of yourself.”

He stumbled out into the night, and somehow made it home, where he did indeed cry for four nights and then some. Then he shook himself off and decided to make something of himself for once. He’d taken to the sword too much to change, so he bought Sam a bow for his birthday, using the last of his money, and taught him how to shoot. They left dad passed out in a puddle of his own vomit and never looked back.

It had been time to save people and hunt monsters.

~

“We picked you rag muffins up along the way,” Dean said. “And that’s that.”

Charlie’s mouth was hanging open. In fact, so was Kevin’s, and even Sam had turned around and was now giving him a thoughtful, pitying look.

“You’re kidding me,” Charlie finally said.

Dean didn’t respond. His eyes were on the ground his horse was carefully picking his way over. Mist had begun to roll in.

“After all that, he wouldn’t stay with you?” Charlie asked. “No wonder you’re all kinds of screwed up.”

Again, Dean didn’t respond. Though this time, he did give her a disapproving look.

“I have to agree,” Kevin said on his other side. “That was a horrible way to end a story.”

Dean shrugged. “Yeah, well, it’s not like I could make him come with me. He wanted to be where he ‘belonged’ and I needed to be with people, doing the right thing,” Dean said. “Sometimes love stories don’t have happy endings.”

“Yeah, well,” Kevin said, “You’re going to see him soon. Maybe the story isn’t over yet.”

Yeah, but did Dean dare to hope for that? Or was this going to be one more bang to the chest? Another reminder that the perfect person for him was already out there, and he can’t have him?

Dean had spent months trying to get over Castiel, and though the sting had lessened, there was an ache that had not. He’d never managed to get over Castiel completely.  It had been three years and he still missed Castiel’s warmth, his soft blue eyes, and the crinkle of his nose when he laughed.

He even missed the adventure. Charlie and Kevin and Sammy, they were great, but nothing ever seemed to compare to that first adventure with Castiel, the crazy talented bowman with a crazy talented mouth.

They rode in silence for another hour, the mist getting thicker and the air heavy and pensive, until a loud owl let out its peal and Dean stopped the party. He watched in awe as Norbert landed on his shoulder.

“Hey little guy,” Dean said, rubbing a finger on the owl’s breast. “Where’s Cas, huh?” He looked around but couldn’t spot him anywhere. “Castiel?”

There was a rustle, and then, “Dean?”

Castiel stepped out from behind a tree 50 yards away. His bow was in his hands, lowered but ready to be fired at a moment’s notice. His hair was as messy as ever and he had gone back to not wearing a top. He looked exactly like he had when Dean had encountered him three years ago.

He walked towards the party, a smile beginning on his lips, faltering just as quickly. “What happened?”

“What, you aren’t happy to see me?” Dean asked, partly a tease, partly a jibe.

“Of course I’m happy, Dean,” Castiel answered, his gaze sweeping over Dean. “But you would have come alone if this was a social visit. So what happened?”

All Dean wanted to do was jump off his horse, run to Cas, and crush their lips together. Somehow, he held himself back. Besides, social visit? Just what the fuck did that mean? Surely he never expected Dean to come out here and, what, use him for a booty call?

“People are dying,” Dean said, mentally shaking himself. He was being ridiculous. “Eyes missing. One or two victims here and there. The gossip wasn’t too specific, but I’m guessing they all had blonde hair.”

Castiel froze and took a deep breath before cursing under his breath. “I was worried something like that might happen,” he said. For some reason, it only pissed Dean off.

“Holding back on me again?” He demanded, preparing to slide off his horse. Castiel flinched. “What exactly–”

He was stopped by Sam, who had rested a hand on his arm. His brown eyes were wide and wild, but he managed to say, steadily, “Perhaps we should make camp.”

Castiel sighed. “My camp is close,” he said, waving for them to follow him. “Come.”

He stopped back at the tree and picked up an animal from the ground. He had been out hunting when they happened up on him. Or Norbert had happened upon Dean, to be more accurate.

They had not been far from Castiel’s home. Dean has suspected as much, given the thickness of the mist. Still, Dean took the time to take stock. His party was fine, Sam looked like he’d seen a pack of wild demon ghosts, but was otherwise fine, and Dean was… far from fine. His chest literally hurt as he watched Castiel lead them back to his camp.

While Castiel efficiently prepared the kill, a small raccoon, the party dismounted and gathered around the warmth of the fire. They left the horses to roam, being well trained and unlikely to wander off.

Castiel placed the raccoon on the fire before turning back to Dean. Dean should have introduced the party, Castiel should have offered his hand, but they only had eyes for each other.

“Dean,” Castiel began, his eyes softening into a plea. “I missed you greatly.”

Dean looked sharply downwards. There was no time for this. “Just, tell me what you know.”

He looked back up, watching as Castiel squared his shoulders.

“It was only ever a suspicion,” Castiel began. “One without proof. It was more of a fear, like a child afraid of the dark. Why bother you with that?” he asked, looking at Dean again like he was desperately hoping he’d understand. Dean waved for him to continue. “Azazel was so corrupted that the moment we killed him, he went straight to hell. He was mostly demon before he even reached the fires.”

Dean nodded. “You indicated as much at the time.”

“My fear was,” Castiel continued, “that as driven as he was, he would come back to continue his work at demolishing the late King’s family line.”

“You have to be joking,” Kevin said, sparing Dean the trouble.

“It happens,” Castiel said. “There are likely a few demons on Earth right now.” He turned to Kevin. “Friend of Dean, what is your name?”

Kevin swallowed, suddenly uncomfortable with having the focus on himself. “Kevin,” he said. “That’s Charlie,” he said, motioning to the girl, “and that’s Sam.”

Sam cleared his throat before stepping forward. “It’s an honor to meet you,” he said, extending his hand. Castiel shook it like shaking hands was foreign to him and Sam was something worth analyzing.

“He didn’t think you were real,” Dean said with a smile. “I told him everything, he still didn’t believe me until Norbert landed on my shoulder, and you appeared holding your bow.”

“You didn’t tell them everything, I hope,” Castiel said, a smirk beginning. Sam turned red and yanked his hand back. Kevin’s cheeks were pink as he looked sharply away. “Everything then.”

“I skipped that time we went through Snow Driven and discovered how good it felt to–”

“LA LA LA LA,” Kevin cried, sticking his fingers in his ears.

“Very mature,” Dean said when he’d finally stopped.

“So’s your face,” Kevin retorted.

Knowing Dean’s party, the banter could have continued for a while. It was Charlie’s rumbling stomach that stopped them. She shrugged and everyone chuckled. Leave it to Charlie’s bodily function to break up some tension.

Castiel motioned for them to sit and busied himself with the raccoon. They gathered around the campfire, sitting on the carved logs and making themselves comfortable. It was weird to see everyone there, in a place that seemed so isolated. A place that had started Dean down a weird, thrilling, and incredibly personal journey.

They supplemented the meal with rations, and it was delicious, as usual. Yet Castiel ate very little, Dean noted. Just a few pieces of coon meat.

“So,” Dean said, licking grease off his fingers, “How do we kill a demon?”

Castiel’s eyes flickered shut and he swallowed hard. He didn’t want to say what he was about to say. “I know of a weapon,” he finally said. “It’s too late to set out now, but tomorrow, I will take you to it.”

“What kind of weapon?” Dean asked. Castiel didn’t answer. He looked at Dean like something was killing him inside, but he didn’t answer.

“Tomorrow,” Castiel insisted, standing up abruptly. “Don’t eat the wood,” he said, making straight for his cabin. Somehow, the door seemed to slam shut, even though it was really quite gentle.

Dean sighed.

They rolled out their bedrolls after that, content to be around the fire. Dean wanted to go to Castiel, to sneak into his cabin and crawl into his bed and kiss him senseless, but that was a bad idea. He wasn’t sharing something, something had put Castiel on edge, and that couldn’t be good.

He was starting to drift off when Sam, whose head was only two feet from his own, spoke softly. So softly, Dean was likely the only one who could hear him over the sound of the crackling fire.

“Hey Dean?” he said. “I just want to say that I’m really sorry. I was a dick about this.”

Dean shrugged, even though Sam couldn’t see it. “I shouldn’t have kept it from you,” Dean told him.

“Yeah,” Sam agreed silently. “But I get why you did. I always wondered why you were so upset for so long after you returned, and then you just showed up with a bow for me…”

Dean thought Sam had drifted off when he spoke again. “You like him a lot,” Sam observed. Dean didn’t disagree. “Whatever happens, whatever we find out, I hope it works out this time. Anyone that can make you talk the way you were today, he’s worth keeping.”

“Thanks,” Dean responded, his voice like a croak. He hadn’t expected that from Sam.

Hope was a funny thing. Dean hoped for it too, but he didn’t dare believe it. There was no reason anything should change now.

~

They departed before the sun was up. No one had been happy about that. Everyone had grumbled and complained, everyone except Castiel, who apparently didn’t sleep that much anymore either.

It seemed as if the sun rising was what chased off the mist, but Dean knew it was more about the distance. Somehow the mist was permanent around Castiel’s tent, and Dean was willing to just let that mystery go.

The benefit to the sun coming up was that Dean’s party woke up with it, and began to chatter again. They told jokes, Kevin told long stories, and it was pleasant to listen to. Dean had fallen back, too wrapped up in his mind.

Ahead, Castiel leaned in to Charlie, whispered something in her ear. She nodded, and Castiel fell back to join Dean at the back of the pack.

He was riding Nebula. After all these years, she had never left him, and Cas had never abandoned her.

Was it stupid to be jealous of a horse? Yeah. Probably.

Castiel didn’t say anything. He seemed to be warring with himself. After an hour of riding peacefully side by side, he reached out, as if hoping to take Dean’s hand, and aborted the gesture. Dean acted before he could think and intercepted the falling hand. He curled their fingers together and squeezed.

Holding hands while on horseback was difficult, and Dean was forced to drop Castiel’s hand. But his palm remained tingly, as if the simple gesture was enough to begin healing wounds.

They broke for lunch at midday, but otherwise continued straight North without pause. Around mid-afternoon, they came to a clearing, the sun’s rays warmer without the canopy of the forest, and in the middle of the well-kept clearing sat one, large, gray tombstone.

The clearing itself was strange, as The Great Forest didn’t have many such open spaces. That there was a tombstone out here, a large one spanning two grave plots, was even stranger. All of this, however, was completely overshadowed by the gigantic sword sticking out of the center of the stone.

A stone which was engraved with the words, “Here lies the once and true King and his loving wife, the once and true Queen.”

Dean stopped his horse abruptly, goose bumps dancing down his arms.

Sam echoed his shock with a, “No way.”

Kevin turned sharply to Castiel. “That’s supposed to be a myth.”

“So am I,” Castiel said with a sardonic smile. “But here it is.”

“Cas,” Dean said, sliding off his horse and beginning towards the stone, “The Exortium Sword is real? Seriously?”

“Do you remember when I told you that I once failed a king? King Phillip?” Castiel asked. “This is the grave of King Phillip, and the sword is _Phillip’s_ sword, the one his head wizard, the captain of the guard, and myself, spelled into that rock.”

“Only to be removed by his true heir, when the time was right, and the need true,” Kevin finished. He had slid off his horse, but was standing with too much shock to even consider moving closer. “But why did you bring _us_ here?”

Castiel sighed, and, for some reason, a shiver went down Dean’s spine.

“Dean, I kept something from you.”

“No.”

“I knew it the moment I met you.”

“You’re joking.”

“You should be able to pull that sword out.”

“Not possible.”

“Because you, Dean Winchester, are the true heir of King Phillip’s throne.”

Dean stared at the sword, fists clenching and unclenching. He was a thief. Of course, he’d given that up years ago, but he was a thief, and his father was a drunk. There was no way he had king’s blood in his veins.

 He looked to Sam, who appeared to be no less afflicted. But he didn’t decry it.

“How can you be so certain?” Dean asked. “Just because I have the blonde hair and green eyes–”

“Your pendant,” Castiel said, interrupting him. Dean looked at him then, finally. Castiel’s eyes were sad, but swimming with a certain amount of pride too. “From the moment we met and I saw that pendant swinging around your chest, I knew. That was the family crest,” Castiel explained, taking a deep breath before continuing, “and that pendant, specifically, was hers.”

Dean’s hand went up and wrapped around it.

“Who’s ‘her’?” Charlie asked after a moment of silence.

“I told Dean I had failed a king. I neglected to tell him the whole story,” Castiel explained. “The night King Phillip was overthrown, most of the kingdom was destroyed. The court was devastated. But a group of knights and a few close to the king managed to get his eldest child out before all was lost. Magnolia was saved.”

“You told me you went into hiding because you failed,” Dean said.

Castiel hung his head. “Until I met you, I thought I had failed so utterly, I could barely stand to be in my own skin,” Castiel explained softly. “We were supposed to protect Magnolia and ensure the line continued. But one day I was out hunting and came back, and the town had been obliterated. Buildings were on fire, dead lay in the street. Out of the entire town, only 12 people were rescued, and none were her. Until I saw that pendant, I assumed she had burned. That is clearly not the case. Someone got her out. Alive.”

“How do you know this wasn’t just picked up by someone?” Dean asked.

Castiel smiled faintly. “She kept that with her at all times, and had already discussed passing it and the knowledge of her bloodline to her children. I imagine your mother would have done the same for you, but she passed away before either of you were old enough.” Castiel nodded at the sword. “Besides, there is one way to find out if I’m right.”

There was a lump in Dean’s throat that he just couldn’t swallow around. Sam put a hand on his shoulder and nodded. “Go. Try,” he said.

He looked to Charlie, and then to Kevin, but it appeared no one was about to cry wolf and start laughing at the good joke they’d all played on him. This was really happening.

Nothing left to do then but attempt to pull the sword out and fail. So he approached the tombstone, wrapped his hand around the grip of the sword, and pulled.

It didn’t move, so he pulled again. And again, until he nearly face planted with the counter force. Behind him, Charlie, Kevin and Sam were beginning to laugh. He turned to tell Cas that he was wrong when suddenly, Cas was beside him.

“I almost forgot,” he said softly. Castiel took Dean’s hand, and, using the tip of one of his arrows, pricked it. Dean hissed as he pressed the wound into the exposed metal of the blade. “I’m sorry,” Castiel said, sucking the wound into his mouth. “I never want to hurt you.”

“But you did,” Dean said softly and simply.

“I know,” Castiel responded. They both knew they weren’t talking about the finger anymore.

Castiel nodded at him to try the blade again and stepped back.

Dean took a breath, prepared himself, wrapped two hands around the grip, yanked for all he was worth, and the blade slid out like the stone was nothing more than butter. Dean fell on his ass and didn’t even care. He was holding _the_ blade. Exortium.

He was fucking King.

Were Kings allowed to say fuck?

Fuck, he was the fucking King, he could fucking say and think what he fucking wanted.

“Dean!” Sam called, and that’s when Dean’s ears stopped ringing and he could hear the cheering. Sam collapsed in the dirt next to him. “Dean look, there’s a ring.”

So there was. Slid onto the quillon, snug against the hilt, was a ring. Dean removed it and looked at it closely. The stone was an emerald, and it was surrounded by the same sunburst as the one on the pendant around his neck.

“It will fit you,” Castiel said. He was watching with a smile. 

The ring slid onto Dean’s fourth finger and settled at the base like it was meant to be there. Dean wondered if magic was involved, but it was hardly worth dwelling over at the moment.

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me this, Cas,” Dean said, looking up to him. He was angry, but probably not as angry as he should have been.

Castiel’s smiled faded. “I didn’t want to burden you,” he said. “If we didn’t need the sword, if it wasn’t necessary… I hate that I had to tell you at all.”

As much as Dean didn’t want to admit it, he understood where Castiel was coming from. And a part of him also wished Castiel had never told him. This complicated things. Was he going to have to be King now? He wanted to continue adventuring, saving people and killing things. Occasionally falling in a trap and waiting for the team to toss him a rope to pull him out. Singing a song with Kevin, teaching Charlie about a new lock. Solving a riddle before Sam does. Making love to Cas in his own bed at their own little house.

“Now what?” Kevin asked, breaking him out of his thoughts.

“Now we find Azazel and put an end to him,” Castiel said. “Do you know where he’s heading?”

Dean nodded and stood up off the ground, then offering a hand to help Sam up too. “Yeah, the gossip made it sound like he was in the south, moving north.” He met Castiel’s eyes, exchanging thoughts without words.

“So we’ll meet him outside Ice Leaf,” Castiel said. “Just like old times. How much time do we have?”

“Few days, at most,” Sam answered. “How far away are we?”

“If we continue through the forest, we could be there by tomorrow evening,” Castiel answered.

Once some semblance of a plan had formed, they remounted and moved out, Dean still in a daze. Castiel was the last to leave. Dean watched as Castiel brushed a leaf off of Phillip’s tomb stone, laying a hand flat on the stone and bowing his head. Castiel must have respected, if not loved, King Phillip a great deal.

They traveled through the forest at an unhurried rate, seemingly having extra time. It was time Dean needed, to wrap his mind around things. The others chattered, but he missed most of it. The only bit he really picked up on was when Kevin asked Castiel about the clearing. Apparently a small group had gone back to recover the bodies of their fallen regents and bury them properly. After the rest of the guard for Magnolia had disappeared, Castiel maintained the grave site on his own.

The sun was low in the horizon before they broke for camp. Sam begged Castiel to let him come with him to catch dinner, and Castiel agreed, amused at Sam’s hero worship. They came back with several rabbits, while the others were still setting up tents, and Castiel looked more than a little thoughtful. Dean hoped Sam hadn’t said anything stupid.

Rabbit, when Castiel cooked it, was delicious. Dean had a weird suspicion that Cas would be good with a stove too, and he had to shake away the image of him and Castiel and a house, and pastries baking in the oven.

After dinner, Castiel asked Sam if he could see his quiver, and set about anointing each tip with his grace. Sam watched in awe as the blue rivulets ran on the steel before being absorbed. He then did the same to Charlie’s sword and Kevin’s daggers.

Dean took Exortium out and held it in front of him, staring at it with wonder.

“It will do more than take out beasts,” Castiel said as he took a seat on the ground next to Dean. “That blade can kill demons.” Dean opened his mouth to ask, but Cas beat him to it. “Human turned demons, like Azazel. Those things that were chasing you before were more like… the guard dogs of hell.”

Dean nodded his understanding, his eyes settling on his blade, and his mouth sticking on words.

Castiel exhaled next to him. “Dean, are you angry with me?” Castiel asked. “Should I leave? You don’t need me now, I could go back. But I… Well I probably shouldn’t say this, but I can’t…” He trailed off. “Can’t get over you,” he finally finished. He moved to stand but Dean cut him off with sharp grab of his hand.

“I can’t either,” Dean confessed quickly before crashing his mouth onto Castiel’s.

There are catcalls (Charlie) and groans (Kevin and Sam), but Dean barely heard them over the blood pounding in his ears. Kissing Castiel after so long without, it was like giving a starving man a seven course meal. It was everything he wanted, and he was overwhelmed with the need pounding in his veins.

“This is probably a bad idea,” he murmered into soft lips. Castiel hummed, not commenting, and continued kissing him.

A part of him was screaming at him to stop, stop this kiss before it went any further, that he was only going to hurt all the more when Castiel left him again. But that part was being drowned out by the part that said, “Oh dear god fucking finally.”

“Dean,” Cas breathed into his lips when they parted.

Nearby, someone coughed.

“Get a tent,” Charlie said, faux-mocking.

Dean laughed, took Castiel’s hand in his own, and did just that.  They didn’t have anything they needed to have sex properly, but neither one cared. Dean crawled over Cas and kissed him senseless, pulling them both out of their britches to grind against each other unhurriedly, and, what seemed like hours later, both came with stuttering breath and whispered endearment.

They fell asleep wrapped around each other, so entangled it would be impossible to see where one began and the other ended.

~

Dean awoke with a start when the tent was yanked open.

“God, you two are so in love it’s sickening,” Charlie said, looking down at them with nothing but a fond smile, showing her words to be only surface level cynical.

“Jesus, Charlie,” Dean cried, yanking a blanket around his crotch. They’d never properly cleaned themselves up or put themselves away. “What are you doing?”

“Waking you up,” Charlie said. “The sun’s up, and neither Kevin nor Sam had the balls to come get you.”

“You could have just called out,” Castiel said, grumpily rubbing his eyes. He seemed unconcerned about his nudity, so Dean rolled his eyes and covered him up too.

“Where’s the fun in that?” Charlie asked. She left, smirking. Sometimes Charlie was the little sister Dean had never wanted, and sometimes she was Lucifer incarnate.

They broke camp unhurriedly, and when Cas told them that they would make it to Ice Leaf before sun down, a somber mood came over them. Soon, they’d be facing a man that was evil as a human, and god knows how powerful or insane as a demon. They had no idea if he’d be alone or what kind of help he’d be able to summon.

It was like de ja vu when they reached the plain outside of Ice Leaf that they had first faced Azazel on. Only this time, they rode right past, into town, and straight to the biggest tavern they could find. They needed information, so Dean disseminated his crew, and an hour later they congregated at the same table to compare notes.

“He left Sleet Root yesterday,” Dean said. Everyone agreed. “And he had company.” More nods. “Well shit.”

“We can do this,” Castiel said, laying a hand on Dean’s. “We took on Azazel by ourselves and succeeded. Now we have help.”

Charlie’s eyes were determined, Kevin raised his chin, and Sam was nodding.

“We’re good at what we do, Dean,” Sam assured him. “Unless he’s bringing an army, we should be able to take a few mooks. Besides, we have the advantage. They don’t know we’ll be waiting for them.”

Sam had a very good point.

“We need a plan,” Dean said.

Together, the five of them worked out a plan, one that used each of their unique skillsets and took advantage of their element of surprise. It made Dean nervous that didn’t have more intel, but things were what they were.

They debated about staying a night in town, but Dean didn’t want to risk missing Azazel, so they went back to the spot of the road that Dean and Cas had originally faced Azazel on and then moved perpendicularly from the road to the tree line. Camp was established just inside the woods, so that they could have a guard watching the road, and the rest would be just out of sight.

That night, there wasn’t much talking around camp, no singing or stories, and everyone broke for bed early. Dean was more nervous than he cared to admit, something Castiel must have picked up on, as he wrapped himself around Dean and squeezed tight. It was like the perfect balm. They exchanged nothing more than a few kisses, and fell asleep holding each other close.

Dean took the third watch. He always did. Charlie was good at staying up late, Kevin was most alert with a few hours of sleep first, then liked crashing for the rest of the night, and Sam was absolutely incapable of being up before he’d gotten nearly a full night’s sleep. So Dean took the shift no one wanted, the one that meant the most interrupted sleep.

He half expected Cas to take his place. Last he checked, Cas had gone back to not needing much sleep. But maybe he imagined that, as when Kevin woke him up for his shift, Castiel snorted, rolled back over and kept sleeping.

The stars were beautiful and Dean kept wishing Cas would wake up and come join him. His shift was almost over when his wish was fulfilled and Castiel sunk to the ground beside him. He put his head on Dean’s shoulder and was silent for a long moment.

“Dean, I want to tell you something,” Castiel said. Dean was quiet, letting him continue. “King Phillip and Queen Caroline never should have been killed.” Dean shifted, confused. Of course they shouldn’t have been. “What I mean is, I’m responsible for it.”

“Cas, you were not responsible,” Dean said without waver. “Not everything is your fault.”

“This was,” Castiel said. “Do you remember the story I told you about how I fell from Heaven because I wouldn’t follow an order to break up one couple by forming a new one? Well, the people who overthrew Phillip would never have been born if I had followed the order. The usurper was the direct decedent of the relationship I was supposed to destroy. I’m responsible.”

Dean didn’t respond right away, working the information over. It certainly explained where Castiel was coming from a bit better. But the guilt was still unfair.

“You don’t know that,” Dean finally said. “He could have been born either way. The rebellion could have happened with or without the usurper. You don’t know, Cas. You aren’t responsible for what people do with their own free will.”

Castiel was silent for a long, long moment. “You truly believe that?” His voice was heavy, but young. He sounded so vulnerable, it was just wrong on the great, ancient warrior.

“I believe in choice and doing the right thing whenever you can,” Dean said, taking Castiel’s hand in his own and squeezing it. “And choosing free will was the right thing. You can’t blame yourself for every possible ripple that may or may not have to do with that decision.”

Dean blew out a breath and continued. “If you hadn’t rebelled, we never would have met. I’d be a corpse on a forest floor with a busted knee and a few extra, pointless coins in my pocket.”

Castiel, who had been mostly quiet and somber through this discussion, suddenly squeezed his hand back, almost tight enough to break the bones.

Dean rubbed his thumb gently on the back of Castiel’s hand. “How could any decision be bad that brought you to me.”

Overwhelmed, all Castiel could say was, “Dean.”

Tilting Castiel’s head with his other hand, Dean leaned in and pressed their lips together gently. Castiel melted easily into the kiss. They made out softly and tenderly until Sam interrupted them with a quiet cough and an apologetic smile. Trying to sneak in some more time together, they retired back to their tent for a little longer.

They weren’t expecting Azazel until afternoon, but the party continued rotations, just in case he arrived earlier than expected. Everyone was getting antsy by the time Kevin came back early from watch saying he’s seen some movement in the distance and it looked like a group of four or five. Dean and Cas exchanged a look, and as planned, Dean moved to the road, while Cas tucked himself behind a tree and readied his bow.

Dean kept Exortium in its scabbard as he adopted a casual, unaffected stance in the middle of the road. He checked behind him, but no one from town was headed south that morning. Thank god.

A slight pause in Azazel’s stride was the only sign that he had noticed Dean. As he pulled in close and noticed who it was, an ugly smile broke out on his ugly face. He whispered to his companion, and the man’s eyebrows went up with a surprised, yet happy expression.

Altogether, there were six of them. Azazel, the man he had whispered to, two other guys with such ordinary faces that Dean couldn’t remember them if he tried, and two women. One short with curly brown hair, and the other tall, also with dark hair.

“Well, well, well,” Azazel said once he was close enough to not have to shout, “fancy meeting you here again, Dean. Meet my friends, new partners to the cause.” He gestured behind himself to his companions. “Not that I’m not happy to finally finish what I started, but this wasn’t too smart of you, was it?”

“Smarts never was my best skill,” Dean responded with a drawl. “But I think you’ll find my skills with a sword have improved, not to mention the upgrade.”

He pulled Exortium out of the scabbard with a flourish. It took Azazel a moment, not understanding what Dean meant, but his eyes fell on the ring, and then a quick glance to the blade and the decorative pommel to confirm the suspicion, and the smirk was gone.

“You?!” Azazel asked with disgust. “A little penny whore is royal blood?” One of the girls snorted. “Well then, I’m doing the whole kingdom a favor.”

Azazel lunged forward at the same time Dean heard Castiel’s bow string twang. If he hadn’t moved, the arrow would have gone through his throat. As it was, it past by Azazel and landed in the chest of the guy he had whispered to earlier. Whisper-Guy fell to the ground, sputtering and shocked, before collapsing completely, dead.

Dean blocked Azazel’s pass with ease, but once he realized his companion was down, he screamed with rage. Pandemonium broke out. There was chanting and movement and Dean didn’t understand any of it, but he understood the sudden appearance of a dozen or so demon beasts.

Yeah, Dean could have really done with never seeing them again.

But they had anticipated this, and Castiel and Sam were on it. Both firing from the forest, four of the beasts were out before Dean could even prep his sword to fight Azazel.

As he blocked another blow and moved to parry, the girl with curly hair and one of the other guys were running towards the forest line. Castiel got one of them with a shot that Dean didn’t see land, but certainly sprayed a lot of blood. Dean didn’t see what happened to the other, but he trusted that they could handle the woman.

There were three people on Dean now, the beasts swarming and diving. He was doing his best to hold them off while meeting volleys and blows. To Dean’s amazement, he was up to the task of defending himself, but he had no opportunity to properly attack. He’d need help or he would die.

More arrows shot by, taking out some of the beasts, giving Dean more room to breathe. Norbert, Dean noticed dimly, had joined too, assisting as always by pulling beasts off for Castiel to target.

Dean saw movement from behind his attackers. Charlie took out the last standing man besides Azazel with a sweet sneak attack that Dean had taught her and she had perfected.

Kevin wasn’t quite as skilled, and the tall brunette woman spun to duck his dagger. Dean didn’t see what happened from there, hoping Charlie and Sam and Cas would have Kevin’s back.

No, Dean was too busy blocking more blows from Azazel. But now that some of the pressure had been handled and most of the beasts had been picked off, he could move more freely, and his blocks turned into parries turned into an offensive strategy.

Azazel was terrifying as a demon, his eyes flashing complete black from time to time, but he still had the same skill with the blade as he’d had before. Which is to say, not as much as Dean did now. He could summon as many beasts as he wanted, Dean would beat him in this every time.

Dean dodged another blow, maneuvering to the side and thrusted upward. Exortium went straight up through Azazel’s gut. 

The lights flashed behind Azazel’s eyes, and that wasn’t just a metaphor. His eyes literally flashed with light and fire, his expression shocked and angry, before he fell to the ground, twitching with electricity shooting across his skin before he gave a final jerk and stilled.

One final arrow went past Dean’s head, and the last beast, which he hadn’t even noticed at his shoulder, fell off and vanished in a poof.

“Dean!” Castiel cried, running towards him. “Dean, please tell me you’re okay,” Castiel demanded. He hands were frantically moving over his body, checking the scratches and the wounds. He had a few, but nothing life threatening.

Determining that Dean was going to live, Castiel wrapped his arms around him and squeezed him tight.

Gently, Dean pushed him off.

“Is everyone else okay?” he asked as Norbert fell from above and landed on Castiel’s shoulder.

Castiel nodded, stroking the bird. “Kevin has a gash in his leg that will take weeks to heal. He’s singing to himself right now, says it helps him handle the pain. Charlie… Charlie?”

They turned frantically to look for her, a moment of panic flashing through him before he spotted her. She was on the ground, five feet away, clutching her arm. Dean breathed a sigh of relief.

“I think it’s broken,” she said through gritted teeth. “Cas, if you’ve got any of that mojo you used on Dean’s knee way back when, I’d sure appreciated it.”

Cas grimaced in sympathy. “I don’t,” he said. “We should get you to a healer in town, they should be able to set it and give both you and Kevin some pain medicine.” Charlie nodded, wincing and whimpering as Castiel helped her to stand.

Dean toed the body of the long haired brunette. They all seemed thoroughly dead, which was a relief. It would make their cover harder if all the bodies had the same final stab wound.

“I’ve got the rest,” Sam said by Kevin. “I can make it look like they killed each other, just get back to a healer and I’ll see you back at the tavern.”

It had been the plan they discussed. They didn’t know what the history was of the minions Azazel had brought with him, but burning the bodies and leaving any loved ones to wonder what had happened would have been cruel. Leaving them as they were would incite panic. So they were to make it look like the party had turned on themselves. Something surprisingly not all that uncommon anyway.

“See you there,” Dean said, thumping Sam on the shoulder. Sam nodded.

The walk back to town was strange. Though Charlie and Kevin were injured, it was minor and they would be fine. Dean was alive, the crazy royal blood line hunter demon was dead, and Castiel was by his side. He should be elated, but instead he was cautious, prepared to have his heart broken again when Castiel left him.

It was going to suck.

~

Charlie was hilarious on pain killers, and Kevin told some incredible stories while inebriated. Even Sam was in a good mood that night, drinking and flirting with a bar girl named Jessica. Dean sat with Cas at a table towards the back, celebrating in a more subdued manner.

“What now?” Dean asked.

“I suppose we go get your throne,” Castiel said into his beer, “And you will rule the kingdom. You will have a table of knights and a queen by your side.” He chugged back more of the beer.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Dean said, spreading his hands. “First of all, if you hadn’t noticed, the current king is still kinda sitting there. I’m not all about regicide, Cas. He hasn’t done anything wrong, not that we know of. I’m not going to go claiming any thrones unless I have to.”

Castiel nodded somberly.

“And secondly, I ain’t marrying any Queens,” Dean said.

Castiel nodded again, more somberly.

“Or any woman,” Dean added.

That, finally, got Cas to look up and meet his eye. There was surprise in his eye that got some gears turning rather uncomfortably in Dean’s head, pieces falling into place.

“Don’t fucking tell me that’s why you wouldn’t stay with me,” Dean said flatly.

Castiel looked down sharply. “You need to continue the line,” Castiel explained. “I can’t do that for you, to the realm. I’m sorry I got us into this, I am, was, an ex-warrior of heaven, I should have been able to resist my feelings for you, it’s all my fault. You need to forget about me, need to–”

“I need you!” Dean damn near shouted. Okay, the eyes all turning on him indicated he had completely shouted. He lowered his voice. “Cas, I don’t fucking care about all of that. At all. We don’t even know if I’ll ever have to rule one day. It could be centuries before this matters, there could be other heirs out there. I’m not giving up everything I have with you because of some stupid sense of duty to the throne!”

He was shouting again, he realized. And he had begun to stand. He sat down and tried to make himself a little smaller and less intimidating to the room at large.

“You’re staying with me,” Dean said, softly.

Dean was still blushing from his outburst when Castiel kissed him.

“Yes, your majesty.”

~

Dean was curled around Castiel, kissing him gently, rubbing into him half-heartedly. They’d already reached completion thrice, and had management knocking on their door for a noise disturbance twice.

They’d been waylaid in heading upstairs by Sam, who had wanted to ask Cas the rather awkward question of why he didn’t have blonde hair. From what Dean had told Castiel earlier, he’d guessed that Mary had just enough warning of her imminent death to try to protect the infant by casting a spell to permanently change his hair and eye color.

When Sam wouldn’t let the question drop and insisted on knowing more, Dean had promised they’d go over the history and work it all out another day, but that he really wanted to go celebrate by fucking his boyfriend.

That had shut Sam up. He threw his hands in the air and walked away muttering how Dean was damn lucky Sam was happy for him and that he should be grateful and not a heathen, and a whole bunch of things Dean didn’t catch.

They were too busy rushing up the stairs where they proceeded to rip the sheets, break a bed leg, and knock over the oil lamp. Three times. Good thing Dean made a decent living adventuring. Those spiders with a stripper complex sure dropped a lot of loot.

Castiel was drifting off in his arms, and, come to think of it, had finished two entire meals at dinner.

“Hey,” Dean said, shuffling him. “What’s up with your wishy-washy attitudes towards food and sleep?”

Castiel hummed contentedly before shifting in Dean’s arms to stare up at him. “Those attitudes reflect how human I am,” Castiel told him, like it wasn’t a big deal. “And how human I am is tied directly to my love for you. The closer we become to each other, the more I fall. I was nearly fully human when we first parted and it took a long time for that to change.”

He shook his head, clearing the negative thoughts, and then brushed Dean’s cheekbone gently, trailing his fingertips down to Dean’s collarbone. “I began falling again the second you came back, only much more quickly. I imagine soon the fall will be permanent.”

Dean was horrified. Castiel was supposed to be immortal, he was supposed to live forever, he–

“Dean,” Castiel said, cutting him off his frenzied thoughts, “I assure you, this is exactly what I want. To grow old with you, to return to heaven with you. One day in the far, far distant future of course.” He brought Dean’s palm to his lips and kissed it.

That was probably one of the most romantic things he had ever heard. And it certainly went a long way towards easing his nerves about Castiel dying one day.

Castiel’s eyes slid just to the right, to the mark Azazel had made on him years ago. It no longer worked as a demon-beast beacon, not even when Azazel returned, but the physical mark had remained, even after all these years.

“I have just a speck of grace left, and I think I know just how to use it,” Castiel said.

He slid his hand over the mark on Dean’s bicep where a light began to glow. It radiated from Castiel’s palm into Dean’s skin. It looked like it should feel hot or tickle, but it did neither. It felt, more or less, like a kiss.

When Castiel took his hand away, Azazel’s mark was gone, and in its place was a Castiel shaped hand print. Castiel kissed the print gently.

“I could not remove his mark, but I could, at least, replace it,” Castiel said. “Every last bit of me went into that,” he added gently. “I’m human now.”

Dean looked at it for a moment longer, feeling stupid and giddy.

“Dude, I think we’re married now.”

Castiel laughed happily, his eyes alight, even without his grace.

“I’m going to repay you for that,” Dean said with a sexy smirk. “Put my mark on you.”

His nose crinkled in that way Dean loved as Castiel smiled back.

“As you wish, Dean.”

~Finis

**Author's Note:**

> A million thank yous to [tkodami](http://tkodami.livejournal.com). Not only was she the creator of the gorgeous art that inspired this fic, she further went on to edit it for me. I can't thank her enough. You can also find her on [tumblr](http://dustyjournal.tumblr.com/) and [AO3](http://archiveofourown.org/users/TKodami).
> 
> Additional thanks to my husband for proofreading this before sending it on to tkodami, and to the Reverse Big Bang moderators for being awesome at putting this all together.
> 
> You may reach me on [my tumblr](http://caswouldratherbehere.tumblr.com) and [twitter](http://www.twitter.com/ratherbeehere). I do have an LJ. Don't message me there. I never use it.
> 
> I deeply appreciate any comments, thoughts, reactions, notes of praise, tips, and offerings of firstborns that you feel inclined to leave.


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